Societal Ills
by Sweet Honey-sempai
Summary: High School AU. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 12, 14, R, H, & N all deal with school, band, family, tradition, murder, politics, antiSemitism, racism, war, drugs, homophobia, and of course, falling in love. Ch. 7 is now up!
1. December 7, 2004, Part 1

WARNING—This story is going to touch heavily on controversial issues such as war, race, religion, and homosexuality. No single person, religion, or race is going to be insulted or put down. I do not know all the religious practices of Judaism or Islam, as I practice neither, and I will try to be as fair to them as I can. If you cannot read with an open mind, do NOT read this story.

A/N—This story takes place in present-day US in an area near Washington DC.

* * *

December 7th, 2004, Part I

* * *

7:05 AM—ON THE ROAD TO SCHOOL

Duo Maxwell was on his skateboard. Upside-down. He balanced himself on the palm of one hand, his legs titled at perfect balancing angles, his other hand sporting a battered CD player that he had held in his possession for over 2 years. He had had to fix it multiple times over the course of his ownership, each time taking a bit of the sound quality with it, but Duo managed.

"Another loser anthem/whoa-oh/Another loser anthem/whoa-oh…" He sang along with his CD player. The Good Charlotte CD was the last one he'd bought, well over a year ago, and it was his favorite by far, given how many times he's had to clean it.

Suddenly, a foot appeared out of nowhere, propped up on its heel. Before Duo could stop himself, the foot had stopped his skateboard and reared it up. Duo teetered precariously on the edge of his skateboard until it dropped back down to he sidewalk. Duo twisted his arms and dropped his legs behind him until he was sitting on the sidewalk, Indian-style. He looked up and into the face of Heero Yuy, the local killjoy.

"Oh, hey, Heero!" Duo said, waving cheerily and yanking the headphones off his ears so they draped around his neck. "Didn't see you there."

"…Idiot." Heero turned away and walked off. Duo stuck his tongue out at his leaving back.

"That's really attractive, Duo," a voice said from behind him.

"Beauty's in the eye of the beer holder, Wufei," Duo responded.

"That's "beholder", you moron," Heero said from down the street as Wufei passed Duo.

"Jeez, you try to make a funny, and they all rag on you," Duo muttered, shaking his head. He looked up to see an unfamiliar sight. Trowa was walking down the street next to a young woman. She was just slightly older than him, with curly, dark red hair down to her chin and almost clear crystal-blue eyes. She was laughing and talking about something, and Trowa was smiling lightly, staring off into the distance.

"Trowa, who's your lady friend?" he called over, standing up. "She's cute. Not as cute as my Hilde, but then, who is?" He grinned impishly, showing he was teasing.

Both Trowa and the young woman stopped to stare at him. The woman was flushing deep red in the face.

"Duo," Trowa said, his soft voice carrying across the empty street, "this is my sister."

"Your _what_?" Duo kicked his skateboard into the air and caught it, then ran across the street.

"My sister," Trowa reiterated as Duo approached.

"Since when do you have a sister?" Duo asked, blinking in surprise.

"Since we had a DNA test done," Trowa answered simply.

"Well…well, that's great, man," Duo said, a little taken aback. From what few words they had been able to pry from Trowa, he'd been born in Greece, orphaned at the age of one, sent to an orphanage in France for three years, and was adopted by an army captain when he was four years old. After that, Trowa became tight-lipped and stopped talking. He never let on how he came to be in America, or what had happened to the captain. "Does anyone else know?"

"Quatre does," Trowa answered. It figured that Quatre would know first; Trowa and Quatre had become friends almost simultaneously with meeting each other. It had been Quatre who managed to drag the small part of Trowa's history they knew out of him. Duo also suspected that Quatre knew the rest of Trowa's story.

"Well, time for introductions!" Duo said, sticking his hand out to Cathy. "My name's Duo Maxwell. I may run and hide but I never tell a lie. Sorry for that little crack about you not being as cute as my Hilde, but she's my girlfriend so she'll like to know that I find her the most attractive."

"Why, do you report to her?" the woman asked, laughing, as she took Duo's hand and shook it. "I'm Cathy Bloom."

"Sometimes," Duo answered with playful seriousness. "You have two different last names?"

"Trowa won't change his name back," Cathy said, glaring at her brother.

"I forgot it when I was a baby. I had no name for 13 years until I took this one. I'm not changing it back," Trowa said quietly, without looking at Duo or Cathy.

An uncomfortable silence settled on the small group of three. Cathy coughed into her hand and bit her lip, looking ready to scream or cry. Duo searched around for something else to say.

"Well, if you're interested, I could hook you up with somebody, Cathy."

Cathy snorted out a laugh. "No thanks, Duo, that might be considered pedophilia. I'm 19."

"Oh, shoot," Duo said jokingly, snapping his fingers. "Ah, well, Trowa, we have to get going."

"I'll see you later, okay?" Cathy said, turning to Trowa and giving him a hug.

"Okay." His tense frame relaxed for a moment and he leaned his head against hers.

"It's a Kodak moment," Duo commented.

Cathy laughed again. "'Bye, Trowa. Nice to meet you, Duo." She walked away, turned a corner, and disappeared.

"Mean to your sister, much?" Duo commented.

Trowa breathed sharply through his nose.

"Okay, okay, I'll back off," Duo said, placating, shaking his head. He dropped his skateboard and stepped on, placing his headphones back on his ears and going to the beginning of his CD. He kicked off his skateboard and coasted slowly down the street, Trowa keeping pace beside him.

* * *

7: 33 AM—FIRST PERIOD—FRENCH V

"Mademoiselle Darlian, ce raseur de classe vous?"

Relena blinked and looked up. Her eyes were dry and blurry from staying up late last night, helping her father revise legislation he was attempting to put through.

"Non, je suis juste fatigué. Je suis désolé," she answered in perfect French just to prove a point. Her French V class was thankfully one of her easiest classes as well as her first, so she could often sail through it with one eye closed.

"Bien, obtenir quelque plus de sommeil la nuit. Maintenant, comme je disais, nous avons un nouvel étudiant aujourd'hui. S'il vous plaît accueillir Mademoiselle Middie Une."

Relena blinked again to clear her eyes. A new student? Relena squinted up front. Standing next to her teacher was a girl she didn't recognize. The girl, Middie Une as she had been introduced, was smaller than Relena in height but equal in stature. Her hair was cornsilk blond and, in parts, clumped together to fall over her shoulders. Her eyes were an extremely dark blue, and they stared straight ahead nervously.

"Dire un morceau de vous, Middie," Relena's teacher prompted.

"Bonjour," the girl said, speaking in a soft Soprano voice. "Mon nom est Middie Une. J'étais né en France mais je pars quand j'étais environ 10 avec mon père et mes frères. J'habite avec mon cousin, Lady Une. Je planifie sur me spécialise dans photgraphy, et je prends cette classe si je peux comunicate avec les éditeurs de revue dans l'Europe dans ma langue de maison avant que je l'oublie. Agréable pour vous rencontrer tout."

"Très bon, Middie. Je ne pense pas il y a du danger de vous oubliant votre langue de maison. Prendre la place vide."

"Merci," Middie replied. She scanned the room for a seat. The only open one was to Relena's right. She walked through the aisles until she reached her empty seat, plopped her bookbag on the floor, and opened up her French text.

"Salut. Je suis Relena Darlian," Relena said, leaning over so Middie could hear her whispers.

"Salut," was the soft reply.

"Vous êtes de la France?"

"Oui."

"Je suis de l'Italie, me."

"Vraiment? L'Italie?"

"Oui. Ecouter, voudriez-vous vous asseoir avec moi et mes amis au déjeuner aujourd'hui? Nous sommes étés plus nombreux qu'avec cinq garçons à quatre filles, vous pourriez remplir il proprement."

"Sûr. Je ne sais personne dans cette école, de toute façon."

"Grand. Je vous introduirai alors."

"Mademoiselles Une et Darlian, je sais qu'il excite à avoir ou un nouvel étudiant est-il, mais vous plairiez faites l'attention?"

"Oui, monsieur," they answered simultaneously.

* * *

TRANSLATION

"Miss Darlian, does this class bore you?"

"No, I'm just tired. I'm sorry."

"Well, get some more sleep at night. Now, as I was saying, we have a new student today. Please welcome Miss Middie Une. Say a bit about yourself, Middie."

"Hello. My name is Middie Une. I was born in France but I left when I was around 10 with my father and brothers. I live with my cousin, Lady Une. I plan on majoring in photography, and I take this class so I can communicate with editors in Europe in my home language before I forget it. Nice to meet you all."

"Very good, Middie. I don't think there's any danger of you forgetting your home language. Take any empty seat."

"Thank you."

"Hi, I'm Relena Darlian."

"Hi."

"You're from France?"

"Yes."

"I'm from Italy, myself."

"Really? Italy?"

"Yes. Listen, would you want to sit with me and my friends at lunch today? We're outnumbered with 5 boys to 4 girls, you could neatly fill it out."

"Sure. I don't know anyone in this school, anyway."

"Great. I'll introduce you then."

"Misses Une and Darlian, I know it's exciting to have or be a new student, but would you please pay attention?"

"Yes, sir."

* * *

8:29 AM—SECOND PERIOD—COMMUNITY ACTION—DOWNTOWN

"Freakin' Oz people," Nataku muttered, kicking the remains of a crumpled brick. It had once been part of a wall belonging to the town's historical courthouse, which had been half-destroyed the night before by students from a neighboring school before someone could call it in.

Oz High School and After Colony High School were frequently at loggerheads, having been traditional rivals since both their football teams had wiped out Alliance High School's own team. After Colony High was located in the middle of downtown Earth Sphere, the town that encompassed four high schools in: Alliance High, After Colony High, Oz High, and Romefeller High. Any delinquency done downtown was accredited mostly to Oz and Romefeller and occasionally to Alliance, but the recovering after acts of vandalism usually fell to After Colony High School's Community Action class.

Whose two prominent students were Nataku Long and Relena Darlian.

Relena sighed, knelt down, and began stacking bricks. "It's because the championship game is tonight. They're trying to psyche us out."

"We won't let that happen, though," Nataku said vehemently.

Relena sighed. "Our team's not that good this year," she reminded Nataku.

"So? We'll still beat them. And if not the team, our band is far and away the best out of all the schools."

"True," Relena allowed, with a smile on her face. "It should be, we've only been worked to death since June."

"Oh, you enjoyed it. Especially DMA."

"Okay, okay, yes, I did like it."

"Because of a certain brown-haired blue-eyed Japanese-Russian boy…"

Relena flushed bright scarlet and became suddenly busy with brushing dirt off the bricks.

"Oh, you don't deny it?" Nataku teased.

"You and Wufei."

"Ugh!" Nataku threw up her hands like a drama queen. "Now, why'd you have to go and remind me of _that_ thing!"

"Be nice, Nataku," Relena admonished, but she was smiling. "You know, Nataku, I really think you could learn to like Wufei."

"Yes, I could like Wufei…if you switched his personality for Quatre's." Nataku began fitting some bricks back into place. "And even then I wouldn't want to marry him."

"You're sure there's no way to back out of it?" Relena asked.

"Unless I bolt on my 18th birthday, I really don't see any way. Grandfather is pretty set on us getting married. Get married or get disowned. That's the way it's been since our family started."

"Yeah, but your family left China in 1933," Relena said. "Do you really need to carry on the tradition?"

"Took the words right out of my mouth, Relena," Nataku said, snapping her fingers at her friend. "You'd think, after 71 years in this country, we'd lose some of the old traditions, but…" Nataku shrugged. "I'll just have to leave as soon as I'm legal."

"That's really horrible," Relena said softly.

Nataku shrugged again. "If it's what I have to do." She wiped her nose with her sleeve. "Now, let's get a move on, shall we?"

Relena began to layer cement onto the remaining bricks on the wall with a flat shovel. "There's a new student in my French class."

"What's her name?"

"Middie. She's actually _from_ France."

"Then why's she in a French class?" Nataku asked.

"She left when she was 10. She says she wants to refresh her memory."

"Good idea." She began to fit bricks into the mold of the building. "So, did you manage to suppress your flypaper tendencies, or will she be sitting with us at lunch?"

"How could I resist taking in another friend?" Relena asked, laughing.

"Our International Clique just got a new member," Nataku commented. "Let's see, is anyone else in our clique French?"

"Quatre and Dorothy are part French, and Trowa lived in France for a bit," Relena said. "But he's Greek, right?"

"Yeah. Let's see." Nataku began to count off her fingers. "Heero's Japanese and Russian, you're Italian, Hilde's German, Trowa's Greek and I _think_ Latino, Quatre's French and Arabian, Dorothy's Spanish and French, and Wufei and I are Chinese. Duo's the only born-and-bred American, isn't he?"

"Yep." Relena wiped a mix of cement and dirt off her nose, only succeeding in smudging it up more. "We're our own UN."

* * *

9:04 AM—THIRD PERIOD—ADVANCED PLACEMENT ENGINEERING AND DESIGN TECHNOLOGY

"Except that wouldn't work; it would crash because of the unequal weight distribution," Heero answered, dropping his raised arm.

"Right you are, Heero," the teacher affirmed, nodding her head. "And that ends our review for Monday's test. Get together in your groups and continue working on your projects."

Heero glanced over at Quatre, who smiled and waved him towards his seat. Heero got up, slung his bookbag over his shoulder, gathered his books in his arms, and moved towards the empty seat that another student had just vacated. Duo, Hilde, Trowa, Wufei, and Nataku were all following suite. Quatre was the male part of the nucleus around which everyone in theclique revolved, just as Relena was the female part. It was they who attracted everyone towards each other. It was through them that Wufei and Nataku could sit with each other without one of them going home in bandages and the other in trouble, it was they who got Heero and Trowa to string two words together in a comprehensible sentence. They were pivotal members of the clique—without them, theclique would not exist as it currently did.

"I thought we were finished with our project," Heerosaid as he sat down.

"Oh, we are," Quatre said cheerfully. "I just figured we should spend the rest of the period talking. It's better than sitting around waiting for the bell to ring."

"T'is true, t'is pity, and what t'is pity, t'is true," Duo recited, with a fake sigh.

"Where did you learn that?" Trowa asked, giving Duo a strange look.

"Sister Helen," Duo replied. "She used to say it all the time when I'd come home suspended for having another fight."

"You know, Duo, it's amazing that you haven't been expelled yet," Nataku commented. "To listen to you talk, you've beat up half the school."

"Three-quarters, to be exact," Duo said, with a wink and a grin. "Well, hey, is it my fault kids in elementary school have no concept of compassion or decency?"

"Figured you'd pound some sense into them, eh?" Wufei muttered.

"Yep!" Duo answered brightly. "'Neways, 'nuff about that. Hilde, did you get your parents to agree?"

"Yeah, Dad says you can come with us," Hilde replied.

"What's that about?" Nataku asked, glancing at the two of them.

"Duo asked to come to Temple with me tomorrow," Hilde explained. "We had to put it past my mom and dad, since Dad's the Rabbi."

"Already combining religions?" Trowa questioned, looking at them with a serious eye. "Big step."

"Oh, it's not _that_ hard to do," Quatre offered. "My dad's Muslim and my mom's Catholic, remember?"

"Wow, according to the almighty force known as the STEREOTYPE, you and Hilde should be trying to bomb each other's brains out," Duo said, a sarcasm lacing his words.

"I'll take all the allies I can get when I'm Federal Government Enemy Number 1," Quatre said, humorously but suddenly allowing bitterness to conquer his voice.

"Let's see, your crimes have been the horrors of…" Duo began sarcastically, "…being French, being Arabian, being Muslim, and…how to put this in the politically correct terms…

""Being the most obvious flamer on the face of the planet", as someone once so eloquently told me," Quatre filled in.

"Ah, yes, that. Oh, and looking at a moose from a plane in Alaska, mustn't forget that."

"What!" everyone else said unanimously, giving him the strangest looks they could muster.

"It's a law in Alaska that it's illegal to look at a moose from inside a plane. High crime, that is. We're trying to put through a bill to make it punishable by lethal injection."

Hilde suppressed a laugh by breathing loudly through her nose. Heero shook his head. Quatre giggled into his fist.

"Why tomorrow?" Nataku asked, looking at Hilde. "I thought tonight was the first day of Hanukah."

"Today's the _eve_ of Hanukah, and that's a family-only thing," Hilde answered. "Hanukah's not really that big a deal anyway, but since it's Shabbat, Dad's going to give a service tomorrow morning. So I asked him to let Duo come tomorrow with me. Oh, and we're not total enemies, Quatre. In general, Reform Jews, like myself, support gay rights."

"Unfortunately, mine doesn't," Quatre replied, flipping his book open and closed with nervous energy. "And if I followed my mother's religion, that wouldn't change, anyway."

"And this is why I'm Atheist," Heero muttered.

"Now, now, Heero, don't blow off religions entirely," Duo admonished playfully. "There are plenty of good religious people out there. Oh, that reminds me. Remember how I swore that I'd sum up all religions into one simple sentence? I've finally figured out how, except for my own."

"What's Judaism?" Hilde threw at him playfully.

"Dehydrated Christianity," Duo promptly replied.

"And Islam?" Quatre asked, giving him a questioning look.

"Christianity on steroids."

Quatre laughed. "Well, if you think about it, that's kinda true, Duo."

"What's Buddhism, then?" Nataku offered, grinning.

"Heaven without God."

"Then what's Atheism?" Heero asked, giving Duo a semi-curious look.

"Life without God. What are you again, Trowa?"

"Agnostic."

"Wait-and-see," Duo filled in, self-satisfied.

"How did you get all this?" Quatre asked curiously.

"Sister Helen makes me study all the religions she can get a book on. Oh, and those religion tests you take on-line are pretty fun, too."

"You're such a pothead, Duo," Nataku said, shaking her head.

"Nope, not a pothead. Acidhead. There's a difference, you know. Mr. Bunny!" Duo crossed his eyes and starting rolling his head around as if watching an invisible rabbit. "Come back, Mr. Bunny!"

At this, Trowa had to laugh. Even Heero allowed a small smile to grace his usually stoic face. Hilde, however, gave him a small punch in the arm.

"Don't joke about that kind of stuff, Duo."

"Oh, we can talk religion, but we can't talk drugs," Duo mused, smiling.

"Yep," Hilde said with a nod.

Duo gave Hilde a long, hard glance, and then turned his attention back to the group. "And now for something completely different…Trowa, aren't you going to tell them about Cathy?"

"Who's Cathy?" was the reply from everyone else, excluding Quatre and Trowa.

"You have the worst timing, Duo," Trowa remarked placidly. "I am going to tell everyone at lunch."

"Oh, you'll tell Quatre immediately, but you won't tell us," Nataku said with a small pout.

"It's his business who and when he tells," Wufei hissed acidly.

"Oh, shut up," Nataku snapped agitatedly. "You want to know as much as I do. You're just trying to pick another fight with me…"

"Guys, please," Quatre interjected, weakly holding up his hand for peace. "She…" he jerked his head backwards toward the teacher, who was glaring at their group with a suspicious eye "…looks like she's going to kill us anyway. Don't start a fight here and now."

Wufei and Nataku gave identical snorts and sulkily folded their arms simultaneously.

"Uh-oh, they're already doing things in unison," Duo teased. "Break out the rice and old shoes. Hilde, you tie the tin cans to the bumper…"

"Will you shut up?" Nataku smacked Duo in the back of the head.

"Are you working?" the teacher snapped.

"Nope," Duo answered, leaning his head back so he was looking at her upside-down.

"Why not?"

"We finished our blueprint a week ago because Quatre made us do it as soon as we got the assignment," Duo said with a dismissive wave.

The teacher looked a little flustered. "W-well, if your fail your project, on your own heads be it!"

"We'll take that to heart," Duo said casually, bouncing his head back and settling it into an upright position. Hilde shook her head, and then leaned it onto Duo's shoulder.

"You really are something else, Duo."

"And that's why you love me."

* * *

9: 55 AM—FOURTH PERIOD—LUNCH

Dorothy set her bookbag on the table. She was the only one who brought her own lunch to school. She wasn't quite sure why; everyone agreed that the school food was detestable, the exception being the fries, and even they were questionable when the salt content exceeded the necessary amount. Dorothy chalked it up to another psychological discrepancy, a kind of mental irony.

"A mental irony," she muttered to herself, before smirking. That's what she could call herself sometimes. A flirt, but had never been on a date. A pro-war best friends with a pro-peace. She could barely remember all the debates she and Relena had had over the war in Iraq when it first broke out.

"Hi, Dorothy," a female voice said behind her. Dorothy turned around to see Relena, carrying a green lunch tray containing a plastic-wrapped Italian hoagie. Near her, almost invisible within her pale, waif-like frame, was a girl Dorothy did not know. She quickly scanned the girl up and down. Blond hair the exact same shade as Dorothy's, but much shorter and thicker. Blue eyes as well, though hers were ocean-blue and Dorothy's were crystal. Much shorter as well, and a little stockier, though not muscular or anywhere near fat.

"Who's your friend?" Dorothy asked.

"This is Middie Une. She just transferred into my French class. Middie, this is Dorothy Catalonia."

"Hi," Middie said, and Dorothy noticed how her small voice imitated her height.

Relena set down her tray, and Middie did the same. All three girls pulled out seats and sat down.

"Where'd you go before now?" Dorothy asked, eyeing Middie.

"Alliance High," Middie answered quietly.

"Are you always this mousy?"

"Dorothy!" Relena interjected indignantly.

But Middie smiled. She had a nice smile, shy and small, and it made her look much younger and more innocent than her 17 years. "Let me hang around for a while; I'll never shut up then."

"Who's this?"

"Heero, this is Middie," Relena said, as Heero sat down opposite to her. "She just transferred from Alliance. She's in my French class."

"It's a pleasure," Heero deadpanned, raising his own hoagie to his mouth.

"Same," Middie answered.

"And this would be…?" Nataku and Wufei were approaching, both a little red in the face and looking as if they'd been arguing beforehand and had just let off.

"Middie. New kid. Relena's French class," Heero filled in, and then took another bite, downing it with some canned Pepsi.

"Where are Duo and Hilde?" Relena asked. "They usually show up about now."

"They're fighting with Duo's locker," Wufei explained. "It jammed again."

"That thing hates him," Dorothy remarked.

"Hey!"

The group turned to face the vicinity of the voice. Middie saw what looked like a boy with blue hair and a girl with a long braid approaching, until they got near enough to realize that she'd had her genders mixed up. Unconsciously she blushed at her mistake. Dorothy noticed her flushed cheeks and raised her eyebrow in questioning.

"How did the fight end?" Nataku asked as the two pulled out seats and dropped their books and Hilde's purse on them.

"Duo kicked it, and it actually opened," Hilde answered, digging in her purse for her wallet. "Duo's not going to shut it ever again, is he, Duo?"

"Nope, Duo's not." He began rubbing the toe of his sneakers on the ground, trying to ease the pulsating pain that went from his toenails to the balls of his feet. "Duo doesn't care if everyone steals his things; it's not worth breaking his foot."

"Does Duo always refer to himself in the third person?" Wufei asked sarcastically.

"Duo will stop now." He cleared his throat and dug out his wallet. He flipped it open and pulled open the pocket. "Empty. Surprise, surprise. Ah, well. I'm getting paid today anyway."

"Duo, where do you work?" Heero asked, looking up from his hoagie.

"None'ya," Duo replied breezily, sticking out his tongue. "Who's the new girl?"

"Middie," Relena interjected. "She's in my French class; she just transferred in from Alliance."

"Why'd you leave?" Duo asked, peering at Middie intently.

"Got in a fight," Middie answered, looking just slightly uneasy.

"Mousy thing like you?" Nataku reached over and began messing with Middie's cornsilk-blond tresses. She then smiled and flipped Middie's hair back. "I kid, I kid. Who won?"

"Me." Middie flipped her hair into place. "Got in a couple clean hits before the principal pulled me off."

"Why'd you fight her?" Dorothy queried.

"She insulted my little brother," Middie answered simply, in a way that closed the conversation. Relena pursed her lips and frowned, but made no attempt to admonish Middie. Her friends had all gotten into fights before; Relena was the only one among them who had never fought anyone in her life. Even Quatre had fought someone once. Given, he had been jumped, but Quatre had certainly held his own for being caught off-guard.

"Hi!"

Relena turned and smiled as Quatre approached them, holding a plastic-wrapped school sandwich in one hand and waving with the other. Trowa walked behind him, holding his own lunch.

"Hey, guys," Relena answered, also waving. Quatre and Trowa reached the table and set down their stuff. "Guys, this is Middie." She gestured to the new girl, who had suddenly stood up. "She just transferred in. Middie, this is Quatre and—"

"No-Name?"

Relena shut her mouth, and all eyes turned to Trowa. His browned, stoic face suddenly seemed stricken, and his emeralds for eyes had widened to an almost impossible length.

"Middie," Trowa said, the words barely passing over his lips. "What are you _doing_ here?"

"I…I transferred in," Middie said, blood rushing to her face and sweat forming on her brow. "I didn't know you went here too…"

Trowa suddenly about-faced.

"No-Name, wait, please—"

"I'm not No-Name," Trowa said, barely intelligible but fiercely intimidating. None of the others had heard him speak that way before. "No-Name died with the Captain."

"No-Name, I _had_ to!" Middie pushed back her chair and moved around the table. "You know I _had_ to!"

"We're through, Middie. It's been over for a long time."

"We're not finished, No-Name!" Middie had reached him. Her hand shot forward and grabbed his shoulder. "You know we're not!"

Trowa whipped around, throwing her hand off him, and grabbed her wrist. He pulled her in closer so her face was almost touching his. "We're finished, Middie," he said, his voice flat and deadly. He threw her arm down and turned away. "I'll be outside for lunch," he announced over his shoulder to the others.

"No-Name!" Middie called. "Wait!"

"I'm not No-Name. The sooner you realize that, the easier this will be." Trowa shoved his hands in his pocket and walked away towards the double doors.

"It will never be easy!" Middie yelled after him. "Don't you dare run away from me again—!" She whirled around at the touch of a hand on her arm. Quatre had come up behind her and grabbed her forearm.

"What!" she snapped, her face now bright pink.

"I'll go talk to him," Quatre offered. "I think I can get him to come back."

"Did…did No-Name tell…?"

"He told me everything. Don't worry so much, he just didn't expect to see you again, that's all," he said, squeezing her arm reassuringly. "I'll try and get him to talk to you. You guys have a lot to work out."

"Thank you. So much." She let out a big sigh of air in a whoosh. "What was your name again?"

"Quatre Raberba-Winner," Quatre answered. "And "No-Name" is "Trowa Barton" now. Don't call him "No-Name" again. He really hates it."

Middie wiped sweat and tears her face with her arm. "Trowa Barton."

"I'll go now; I think I can catch up to him."

"Thank you again."

"It's not a problem. I'll meet up with you guys later!" Quatre called back at the others. He patted Middie's arm again, and then took off across the cafeteria and to the double doors that led to the football field.

"Middie, what was _that_—?" Relena started incredulously.

"No-N—Trowa's an old friend of mine."

"And…what just happened here?" Relena continued.

"Drop it," Heero suddenly ordered.

"But Heero—!" Relena gasped.

"If Trowa won't talk about it, we shouldn't make Middie talk about it either."

Relena opened her mouth to protest, but thought for a moment, and then shut it again. "All right. Middie, sit down, and we'll all try to eat."

"O-Okay," Middie replied shakily. Her quaking legs somehow carried her back to her seat, and she unceremoniously plopped into it. Nothing could induce her to eat, but being among Trowa's friends was enough.


	2. December 7, 2004, Part 2

Disclaimer-Don't own nothing

Shoutouts:

Infinity: Trowa's going to remain an enigma for a while longer.

relenalover: You've got some Heero/Relena in this chapter, but it'll be a bit before the Trowa/Quatre/Middie/Other Person is worked out.

MacuKnight: We'll eventually see some Zechs, Noin, Treize, Lady, and Mariemaia.

* * *

December 7th, 2004, Part II

* * *

10:07 AM—FOURTH PERIOD—LUNCH

"Trowa?"

Trowa looked up from where he was staring at his lunch, his stomach and mind too jangled up inside to force his mouth or throat into even the most mechanical motions of chewing and swallowing. Quatre was approaching his seat on the second row of the cold metal bleachers tentatively, like an unfamiliar father with his crying child.

"Are you all right?" he asked shyly.

Trowa made a small, guttural, noncommittal noise and turned back to staring at his sandwich. Amazing how rips in the dough could be so interesting to the scattered mind.

"I know it's a shock to see her again," Quatre offered quietly.

"I knew that I'd eventually see her again," Trowa said simply, dismissing the suggestion, averting his gaze from his food to the football field. "I guess I just wasn't prepared for it now. With Cathy and everything especially."

"Can you really just leave it like it is with her?" Quatre sat down next to Trowa, folded his hands in his lap, and looked at his friend.

Trowa sighed heavily. "I don't think I have much choice. I don't want to talk to her again."

"You're really sure?"

"I don't want to," Trowa repeated.

"Why not? You know that she had to—"

"I know that she had to," Trowa interrupted. "I also know that the Captain would be alive if it wasn't for her. I won't blame her for it, but I'm not interested in being friends with her again."

Quatre made a noise and pushed his bangs off of his forehead. "At the risk of sounding like Duo, sheesh. What a world we live in. We're pretty beyond the average high-school teenagers, huh?"

"Simply by virtue of being who we are," Trowa replied flatly. "If you have a problem, join the club."

"We attract them like flypaper," Quatre tagged on, with a weak laugh. "Trowa, just don't hurt her, okay? I know you lost the Captain, but Middie suffered, too."

"I know." Trowa stood up, turned around, reared back his arm, and tossed the remains of his sandwich over the bleachers and into the parking lot. The last remaining sea gulls swooped down to pick at the carcass of whole wheat bread, lettuce, yellow cheese, bologna, and salami. Trowa bunched up the dark pink plastic in his hand and shoved it in his pocket. "I'll throw that out later."

"You want to go back inside?" Quatre offered, standing up and brushing invisible dust off his jeans.

Trowa shrugged passively. "Not really. I don't want to see Middie right now."

"You wanna walk around downtown?" Quatre tried again.

Trowa shrugged again, but lighter this time. "Why not."

Quatre smiled and rubbed Trowa's arm comfortingly. "Cool."

* * *

10:48 AM—FIFTH PERIOD—PHYSICAL EDUCATION

"Ah, archery week," Duo said, picking three arrows out of the cylindrical container with his free hand; his other hand full of the bow. "I'm surprised some crackhead hasn't shot someone up yet."

"They're all waiting for you to do it," Wufei muttered, arranging his bow and arrow, and eyeing the target at the other end of the auxiliary gym. A white circle encompassed in, equaling one point. Then a red one, a yellow one, and a green one, 2, 3, and 4 points worth respectively. Finally, there was the black circle, the bull's eye, worth 5 points.

"You're so nice to me, Wufei. I feel so loved." Duo placed his arrow against the bow, pulled back the string and let one fly across the room, landing on the line between the green and black circle. "Well, close enough."

"Close enough is not good enough," Heero muttered from two spaces down, holding his bow and arrow straight. He pulled back the string to an almost impossible length, both eyes fixed on the future trajectory of the arrow. With a sudden but soft movement he let the string go; the arrow shot through the air almost invisible until it landed solidly in the bull's eye.

"Nice shot, Heero," Nataku complimented.

Heero grunted his gratitude and set up another arrow. This one flew through the air and landed directly alongside the previous, not a millimeter between them.

"Good God, Heero!" Duo yelped with a little jump. "Are you training to kill somebody or something?"

Silence and a glare was Heero's answer as he began preparing his bow and arrow again. Duo raised his hand and bit his thumbnail, a tactic to suppress worrying he had picked up as a child and couldn't seem to kick. In fact, contrary to Sister Helen's attempts at reforming Duo from his thumbnail-biting, the habit was contagious; Hilde had started doing it long ago.

"Duo," Hilde said, coming over from her spot to touch her boyfriend's arm. "What's wrong?"

"Ah, Hilde, thy know mineself so well," Duo said, turning around with a smile. He dropped his voice and leaned in towards the side of her face. "We'll talk about it on the way home, okay?"

"All right." Hilde frowned, but allowed Duo a quick peck before returning to her X-marked, duct-taped designated shooting area.

Heero glanced over to make sure Duo was back in his spot and distracted by shooting before returning to look at his bow. Duo was just as curious about Heero's motivations as they all were of Duo's suspicious job. But just as Duo didn't think he could afford to fill them in, Heero knew he could not afford to tell anyone his reasons.

Especially Relena. Heero could never tell her why he had been training in shooting ranges for years, perfecting his aim and control of a steel gun. She would be horrified, she would beg him not to go through with it, that it would ruin everything that he had ever worked for, and why would he want to end the life he lived and knew?

Heero mused on the image of Relena's face. He had met her on the street when they were both 11, having quite literally run into each other on the way home from school. Relena had stared shyly at him, and had opened her mouth to talk just when Odin showed up to usher his stepson away. Three years later they had met again in June, both newly-joined Band members of After Colony High School. He had not recognized her right off, but she had remembered him, and in time his memory had conjured up the image of the shy, blushing girl who'd knocked him over accidentally.

Three years had changed her; she was much more confident now, though still very quiet at the time. She led the Trumpet section by the nose, rivaling only Heero in power, eventually beating him out for section leader by the skin of her teeth, and was now his partner Drum Major this year. He'd heard her laugh, a laugh of silver and gold intertwined, when she'd heard the news. Her first excited moment was when she was informed that she and Heero were now Drum Majors; she had turned and hugged him around the waist, jumping up and down, laughing and shrieking.

For some reason, whenever he picked up the gun that belonged to his stepfather and looked at it with the eyes of a bloodthirsty killer, the image of Relena bouncing up and down with her arms around him, laughing with euphoria, made him put it back in its case and quickly leave the room.

"Look alive, Heero," Trowa muttered at him, before shooting off his own arrow. Heero shook his head as if to rearrange his thoughts and pulled back the string before scoring another perfect bull's-eye.

* * *

11: 23 AM—SIXTH PERIOD—BROADCAST JOURNALISM

"You're Middie, right?"

Middie looked up. The girl she had mistaken for a boy was looming over her like a hungry seagull over an eating tourist. Up close, the girl still looked tomboyish, but was decidedly female by her build.

"That's my name," Middie answered smoothly, as if she had never been embarrassed by her earlier gender confusion.

"My name is Hilde Shbeiker." Hilde sat down in the desk in front of her. "Sorry to pry, but what was all that in the cafeteria?"

"Are you a friend of No-Na—I mean, Trowa?" Middie evaded.

"Yeah, my boyfriend introduced us."

"Who's your boyfriend?"

"Duo."

"Who?"

"The one with the braid. And back to the question—what happened in the cafeteria?"

Middie sighed, and smirked a little. "Nothing gets past you, does it?"

"Oh, lots of things get past me," Hilde joked dismissively. "But I'm one of the nosiest people you'll ever meet. And I'm stubborn, as anyone will tell you. So, what happened back there?"

"I really don't want to talk about it." Middie opened her book and began flipping pages.

"Middie, I know we just met and all, so you don't have to tell me everything. But what affects Trowa affects Duo, and I want to know what's what."

"It's none of your business," Middie said crisply.

"I just want to know one thing," Hilde pressed. "This fight you and Trowa have going on—will it last forever or will it end soon?"

Middie opened her mouth, and then paused. She honestly had no idea. She had wanted to see No-Name again for 7 years, ever since he had abruptly walked out of the alleyway. She remembered the mixed look of betrayal and fury in his green eyes before turning to stony, expressionless orbs in his face as he turned around and murmured his good-bye. She remembered calling his name, begging him to come back and not leave her alone, but he had walked on. Not so much as a trace of him had been found until today, and the flames that fueled his anger apparently had not smoldered.

"It should…eventually fizzle out," Middie supplied cautiously, glancing at Hilde to register the amount of stock she put into the statement.

Hilde bit her lip and sent a searching look at Middie, who did not flinch. The new girl was certainly smooth as silk. She had a deceptive and secretive air around her that, while intriguing, had the ability to put people off.

"All right, then," Hilde finally said, and Middie breathed a silent sigh of relief. "Sorry to be so nosy, but I need to be in the loop, you know? If I'm even a little bit involved, I want to know what's going on."

"Don't worry about it," Middie said in a way that closed the conversation.

"_Miss Shbeiker_, kindly re-join the rest of the class!" the teacher hollered in her direction.

"Yes, ma'am," Hilde answered, twisting around so she was sitting upright and facing the front.

"As I was saying before I had to correct Miss Shbeiker's manners," the teacher half-complained, shooting a glare at Hilde, who remained straight-faced. "As a reminder from yesterday: your upcoming tests are completely your own idea. Your topics are of your own making, and your ratings will determine your grade. I'll give you the rest of the period to choose your partners, and come up with your topics and your strategies for executing them."

"Wait, what are we supposed to do?" Middie asked, poking Hilde's arm with a pencil.

"We have to interview the student body over something we pick with a partner," Hilde answered, turning her head to look at Middie.

"_Miss Shbeiker_, I wasn't aware that I permitted shouting in my classroom," the teacher yelled through clenched teeth from her desk in the front of the room.

"She was just explaining to me what the test was," Middie spoke up.

"Well, perhaps if she hadn't been talking while I was, you would know what the test was about."

Middie was shocked to see what was practically a sneer on the teacher's mouth. She glanced back and forth at the teacher and Hilde, whose face had turned a dark pink. Hilde pushed back her chair and stood up, her fists clenching.

"Ms. Aldridge, are you aware that anti-Semitism is not allowed in schools, or anywhere else for that matter?" Hilde shot at her, anger just barely surfacing in the tone of her voice.

Ms. Aldridge stood up as well, nearly toppling her chair. "I am_not_ an anti-Semite, Miss Shbeiker, and you will not use my discipline as a tool to make me so. Shut your mouth and find a partner for your test before I issue you a detention."

Hilde breathed in and out very sharply, looking ready to protest, or yell, or throw something. With a sudden jerking movement Hilde turned and plopped down hard into her chair, turning so her back faced the teacher and her front faced Middie.

"Be my partner, Middie?" Hilde said, her voice quivering with fury.

"Keep it _down_, Miss _Shbeiker_," Ms. Aldridge warned threateningly.

"I'll be your partner," Middie said swiftly, seeing Hilde brace to retort. "Do you have any idea as to what you want to do?"

"Prejudice in schools," Hilde almost snapped at her. "What people think about it, how bad it's gotten—"

"Whoa, wait a minute." Middie pulled out a notebook and a mechanical pencil. She opened to a blank page in the middle of the notebook, clicked the eraser of her pencil to get the lead out, and began scribbling down notes.

"Prejudice in schools…how much…" She looked up. "How about what they plan to do about it?"

"Good one," Hilde complimented, her tone softening just the slightest bit. "The war and prejudice."

Middie wrote down Hilde's idea, and then added while speaking, "The types of prejudice."

"Religious prejudice. Is there an "ism" for that?"

"Don't know. Racism."

"Homophobia."

"Sexism…oh, and looksism." Middie wrote down her last idea, and then began tapping the desk with her eraser. "Who are we going to ask?"

"The teachers, the students, the coaches, the janitors, our friends, and our families," Hilde listed off immediately.

Middie penned down Hilde's words, and then looked up. "What's the matter with Ms. Aldridge?" she questioned. "Why is she so mean to you?"

"Because she thinks I'm a Christ-killer," Hilde said, her face flushing dark pink again, her hand grabbing the golden Star of David that hung about her neck on a thin chain. "And I'm not. How can I be; my boyfriend lives in a church, for God's sakes! And it's not like our religions are all that different."

"Some people are stupid about that kind of stuff," Middie conceded. "Like in World War II."

"That war wasn't even about religion, it was about power," Hilde corrected snappishly. "They just picked a scapegoat and it happened to be _my_ faith. And I'll bet anything Aldridge over there will be even nastier to me now, since Hanukah is being celebrated. She lives right near my synagogue. I see her glaring at me when we go on Saturdays."

"Why doesn't she move, then?"

"She thinks the property value has gone down because we moved here and she won't get the full value for her house." Hilde snorted viciously. "God, I'll _pay_ her to move."

"Maybe we can work this into our project," Middie said thoughtfully. She looked down at her paper and jotted down another idea. "How…the…recipients…"

"Good word," Hilde complimented.

"Thanks…feel…about…it." Middie put down her pencil and looked up. "So, how about we hold up the question to the camera's face on a black background or something, and then all the answers to that question come in successive order, and then ask the next question, lather, rinse, repeat?"

"Good idea," Hilde said appreciatively.

"Wait, I just thought of something," Middie said, looking slightly alarmed. "What if she fails you for using this topic?"

"Then I'll take it to the principal," Hilde replied. "I'll take it up to the School Board if I have to. I'm sick of being treated like dirt by this woman."

Middie twitched her eyebrows up and down, and glanced at Ms. Aldridge. "Good luck."

* * *

12: 47 PM—SEVENTH PERIOD—PSYCHOLOGY II

Dorothy shut her text book and shoved it in her bookbag. The bell would ring in 5 minutes and she was already done with her homework. It had been assigned ten minutes ago. Most students were still muddling through the third question, but Psychology was an easy topic for Dorothy.

Dorothy propped her chin up on her fist, and thought of what had happened at lunch that day. It was quite obvious that there was more to Middie than met the eye even before Trowa's big blowout with her. Dorothy wondered what could possibly cause Trowa, the silent wonder, to get so angry.

Dorothy pulled out a pencil and ripped a piece of paper from one of her notebooks. She headed the top with Trowa's name, preceding a dash and the question "What's wrong with him?"

She tapped her pencil against the desk and thought. Quatre had managed to pry out the facts that Trowa had been orphaned at the age of one, sent to an orphanage in a faraway country, adopted at the age of four, and suddenly orphaned again at the age of ten. After Trowa and Quatre's disappearance at Lunch, Duo had filled them in on the fact that Trowa had found out he had a sister. But the interim period between the ages of ten and fourteen were unknown to all except Trowa himself, and possibly Quatre.

Dorothy jotted down these notes, and then skipped a few lines and wrote down "Middie—Connection". Relena had gotten Middie to relay her short paragraph of history.

"Born in France," Dorothy thought to herself as she wrote it down, and then drew a line to Trowa's note of "Sent to France at age 4".

"Left France at age 10," Dorothy thought, wrote down, and drew a line to Trowa's identical note.

That was all Middie had allowed herself to say. Underneath all her notes, Dorothy wrote down in capital letters: "WHAT HAPPENED IN FRANCE?"

Dorothy tapped her chin with her eraser and thought. Having a grandfather in international politics—especially the shady type of politics Dorothy knew he dealt with—certainly would help. Dorothy sketchily remembered something about several drug gang wars in Europe and Asia that lasted from 1933 to the time she was ten. They had been small-scale at first, slowly intensifying along the way as drugs were outlawed, and finally elevating into a time when it was no longer safe to walk down the streets in some areas spanning the two continents. Several hundred people—dealers, buyers, and bystanders alike—had been killed before the United Nations finally sent in a medium-sized troop to successfully stop the gang wars.

"Gang war" was written underneath Dorothy's capitalized heading, and below that was written "Barton" and "Une".

Dorothy stopped and stared at "Une". An image of a woman came up in her mind: a tall, brunette, brown-eyed woman that she, Dorothy, had met once or twice.

"Of course!" Dorothy murmured, her eyes widening excitedly. "Treize's fiancé."

Dorothy scribbled down a hasty note to herself to call her cousin just as the bell rang. She closed up her mechanical pencil and dropped her notebook in her bookbag, stood up, slung her bookbag over her shoulder, and left the classroom.

* * *

1: 05 PM—EIGTH PERIOD—ORCHESTRA IV

"All right, all right, stop your yammering," the Orchestra teacher, Mrs. Vidalvi, ordered authoritatively. The noise level in the Orchestra classroom dropped substantially, but not enough to satisfy the teacher. She picked up her music stand and banged it on the floor, effectively giving rise to an outraged cry of protest, leading to a gradual decline of noise until perfect silence, the only exceptions being the clicking of pens and mechanical pencil and the rustling of papers, reigned.

"Yes, I know you're excited to know who are getting the flute and violin duet," she continued, tapping her clipboard with her pen. "Unfortunately, I could only pick two of you, you are all so talented, and all that other stuff, blah blah blah. I pick the ones who feel the music, guys and dolls. Even if you were perfect, if I wasn't feeling it, chances are the audience won't feel it either. Remember that it always takes a certain amount of emotion to really play music. So, I picked the ones who played it best with that emotion."

Mrs. Vidalvi looked down at her clipboard, and then looked up. "So, congratulations, Trowa Barton and Quatre R. Winner, you are our next duet."

Quatre's face lit up like a skating rink at Christmastime. He turned and grabbed Trowa's arm excitedly, who allowed a very small smile to grace his countenance.

"Now, as it's Friday, the game is tonight, and our concert is not for two months, I'd say it's time for a break." Mrs. Vidalvi clapped her hands. "Keep it down, though. I'll be in my office. If I can hear you breath too loudly, you'll be playing on your stomach for the next week."

She wasn't kidding. They'd all heard the horror stories of delinquent students who had been forced to play on one leg, with one hand, or at the worst, while doing a headstand. Mrs. Vidalvi was one of the strangest teachers to ever stalk After Colony High School's halls, yet the students loved her, complete with her bizarre disciplines.

But, being students, the instant Mrs. Vidalvi shut her office door, the voices began working like a factory after the union had ended a strike.

"Trowa, this is great!" Quatre exclaimed emphatically, his excited face now tinged with rose. "I absolutely love this piece; I really hoped I'd get the part…"

"Like, oh my Gawd! Like, no way!" a falsetto, mocking voice said from behind Quatre.

Quatre blinked but otherwise pressed on without hesitation. "Look, we should probably get together to practice it every once in a while."

"Uh-oh, Trowa, better watch it. Looks like Winner's asking you out."

"Ignore it, Trowa," Quatre breathed swiftly, seeing Trowa's eyebrows cock in a manner that foretold danger on the horizon.

"No man is safe with Quatre Raberba Winner on the prowl…"

"I don't recall inviting you into the conversation," Trowa said icily, glaring at the group of obnoxious boys behind them. They snickered stupidly. One spoke up again.

"Well, well, Trowa. Wine him, dine him, sixty-ni…"

"If you finish that sentence, I'll kill you." A muscle in Trowa's brown twitched, a sure sign that he was getting angry once again.

"Oh-ho-ho," another one crooned nastily. "Did you hear that, guys? Better not mess with Trowa's little squeeze."

"Trowa, please, just ignore them," Quatre pleaded, grabbing Trowa's arm. Trowa had gone rigid. His eyes were cocked dangerously.

"Yeah, Trowa, listen to your girlfriend."

Trowa shoved back his chair as he stood up. He took a menacing step forward, Quatre's importunes falling on decidedly deaf ears.

"I hear loud breathing!"

Mrs. Vidalvi's door banged against the wall and then back into the jam as she viciously shoved it up and let it fall shut. Trowa's mind cleared in time for Quatre to grab his wrist and pull him back down into his seat.

"Trowa, please don't, if the school calls my parents again they'll really send me away this time…"

Trowa snorted and turned his back on the mockers, who had fallen silent with Mrs. Vidalvi's warning, turning back to look at Quatre. "So, Cathy won't mind if we practice in our living room."

"I'd really like to meet your sister," Quatre said warmly.

"Meeting the family…"

Quatre grabbed Trowa's arm again to prevent him from rising. "Trowa…no."

Trowa flexed his fingers menacingly but now heeded Quatre's pleas. Resolutely he straightened his already rigid back and tried to block out the taunting laughs of the ignorant mass behind them.

"Thank you."

* * *

1: 57 PM—ON THE ROAD FROM SCHOOL

Duo's thumbnail was grateful not to have been chewed completely away. Hilde's hand fell into her boyfriend's, and her eyes turned to his face with obvious concern.

"Are you worried about Heero, Duo?"

Duo sighed heavily. "Yeah. He really worries me, Hilde. You know when I made that crack about being shot up? I looked at him, and there was something there. In his eyes. Like he wasn't taking it as a really bad joke, which it was."

"I notice it too, sometimes," Hilde admitted. "Like he really wants to kill somebody. But who could he possibly want to kill?"

Duo chewed the inside of his lip, thinking of the secret Heero had told them in their Junior year.

"Maybe…maybe the guy who killed his mother?"

Hilde mentally digested the thought. "But how would he know who did it? Wasn't he just a little kid?"

"Yeah, but he was RIGHT there, and he's not blind. Even if he was a little kid, seeing your mother murdered…you remember that." He resumed chewing his thumbnail, his other hand still resolutely clasped to Hilde.

"…Well, I guess we shouldn't worry about it too much," Duo said resignedly, after a very long silence. "There's not much we can do about it. So, Hilde m'dear, what did your parents say about me sleeping over tonight?"

"No, my Mom doesn't like the idea." Hilde laughed deprecatingly.

"Why, what does she think will happen?"

"I, apparently, have hormones she doesn't trust. Even if my boyfriend IS an altar boy."

"I'm not an altar boy," Duo said, blinking confusedly.

"I told them you were so they'd think you were above the average teenage boy, but I guess it didn't work."

Duo's hand left hers and draped around her shoulder, pulling her towards him and turning his face so it stared at his.

"Am I better than the average teenage boy?" he asked, his previous playfulness banished by full, unmitigated seriousness.

"Of course." Hilde leaned herself upward on her tiptoes to give him a kiss. "Do you remember my ex-boyfriend, Trant?"

"How could I forget him?" Duo's eyes sparked with an old anger. He'd once caught Trant doing everything but full-blown beating Hilde in the school stairwell after a football game. Duo still felt that Trant's ensuing six days in the hospital had not been enough punishment for him.

"Did you know he was always coming on to me? That day…that day he was hitting me because I…I told him "no"." She trailed off, her eyes focusing somewhere far away. Duo squeezed her shoulder, and her eyes suddenly snapped back into focus. "You've never even hinted at it, for over two years. I'd say you're much better than the average teenage boy, and Trant…he's not worthy for you to wipe your feet on."

"Glad to hear it," Duo said, lifting her chin with his fingers and giving her a deep kiss. "We've gotten pretty good at this walking-and-kissing-simultaneously thing, haven't we?" he breathed, pulling back for a second before kissing her again.

"Well, we're talented people," Hilde complimented, after pulling back again.

The two turned up Hilde's walk, not paying attention to the path ahead, eyes only for each other, each knowing the way by habit and instinct. Hilde dug into her pocket and extracted her keys between her index and middle finger. One more kiss, and both turned to look at the door.

Hilde's keys fell to the pavement with a soft yet deafening clink. Her hands flew to her mouth, and Duo swore quietly but audibly.

Written in blue spray-paint on the door set ajar was the pen stroke of evil.

FASCISM LIVES! SIEG HIEL!


	3. December 7, 2004, Part 3

Shout-outs:

anon: (Smacks head)

Relenalover, Solo, Lynn, Nicole, and MacuKnight: Thank you all so much.

Nghtm1r: I already contacted you, but if you're reading this…what you said was extremely uncalled for. You portrayed yourself as narrow and judgmental. You gave this fic barely half a chance before writing it off. You insulted my integrity as a writer. You're not the only one who takes writing seriously. I'd greatly appreciate an apology. I don't mind if you dislike this fic, but it's not your place to insult me like that.

Constant Reader: You clicked on a story called "Societal Ills" and didn't expect it to be preachy? In fact, when it comes up, my friends and I _do_ discuss our religions and nationalities. That whole conversation stemmed from just one announcement that Duo was going toTemple with Hilde. With my friends, one announcement can lead to a discussion like that. Also remember that Duo lives in a church, Hilde's father is a rabbi (and Quatre's father run his mosque, which I haven't mentioned yet) so religion is a big part of their lives. Duo dominated the conversation, so of course it would lean toward religion. As for my writing being permeated by "I'm open-minded" instances, I'm acting on this great quote: "Writers are not concerned with facts, only with what is true". If it's forceful, I'm sorry, but that's just how I believe, and therefore how I write.

Author's Note—I'm speaking of Jews and Muslims as a Quaker. I'm speaking of Doves and Hawks as an Owl. I'm speaking of diseases as a healthy girl. My writing may not always be correct. I'm asking you to tell me if I've gotten something wrong. This must be FACTUAL information that I've gotten wrong, NOT opinions.

Second author's Note—The vibe you're supposed to get from this story is NOT that they're just starting to deal with it, but they've BEEN dealing with it

* * *

December 7th, 2004, Part Three

* * *

2: 00 PM—SHBEIKER HOUSEHOLD

"Hilde… Hilde, we have to report this," Duo said, grabbing Hilde's arm.

Hilde ignored Duo. Her eyes were oddly blank, as if she had seen someone die right in front of her. Suddenly, a savage red blood rose to her face. Viciously, she launched herself from Duo and shoved open the door.

"Hilde!" Duo ran after her frantically. "They might still be in there!"

The inside of Hilde's home was littered with the graffiti of obscene messages and swastikas. Stuffing from pillows was strewn haphazardly across the ripped-up couch. Broken glass from cups, windows, and mirrors were sprinkled over the floor in perfect, sinister symmetry. The shards crunched into smaller pieces under Duo's feet as his pace slowed. The writing on the walls made him physically sick. The glass seemed to cut right through his sneakers.

A scream from Hilde brought his attention from the graffiti and back to her.

"Hilde? HILDE!" Duo sprinted into the kitchen, the direction of the scream. Hilde was kneeling on the cracked linoleum floor, her arms around the neck of her family's golden retriever. She panted heavily, her leg snapped in an odd angle, and blood covered Hilde's pant leg from its severed tail.

"I'll call the police," Duo said quickly. "You call your parents. Whoever's done first will call the vet, okay?"

Hilde nodded mutely, her face an unearthly white. She pulled her cellular telephone from her back pocket. Duo turned and grabbed the cordless telephone, miraculously uninjured in the ravishment of the house, from the wall. Their voices melded together, speaking in time.

"Dad? Dad, something happened at our house."

"I'm reporting a hate crime. The address is…"

"…theTemple okay? Nothing's happened to…"

"No one's in the house except me and…"

"Mom's okay, too?"

"Thank you."

"I love you, Dad."

Duo hung up, and Hilde followed suite directly after. Duo picked up the telephone again. The number for the veterinarian was tacked up in the refrigerator, and Duo punched it in.

"Our dog was attacked," he said clearly into the receiver. "Her leg's broken and half her tail's been cut off. We're afraid to move her; can you send someone over? …Thank you."

Duo hung up again and turned to Hilde. "The vets will be here in about 15 minutes, and the police will be here in 10."

Hilde nodded dumbly, stroking the head of her dog. The dog's eyes were closed, and the laborious breathing was growing shallower. Duo walked over to and knelt behind Hilde, putting his arms around her.

"Dad's coming home now, and Mom will be here in an hour," Hilde said, her throat bubbling with saliva. She cleared her throat and leaned into Duo's chest.

"I'm glad no one was still in the house," Duo said.

"I would've taken them," Hilde said fiercely. "I could kill them for this."

Duo kissed the side of her face and tightened his grip on her. "Don't. I don't want to see you get arrested for killing scum like that."

Hilde sucked in a sudden breath. "Annie's been my dog for 5 years," she said reflectively, her hands still methodically stroking her dog's head. "I got her for my _bat mitzah_." She breathed very audibly. "I can't believe someone would do this."

"There're freaks like this everywhere," Duo muttered furiously, reaching out a hand to stroke Annie's head. "You'd think all this would've ended by now, but some people are just warped. The world's in a sorry state if people can pull of something like this. The world's in a sorry state anyway, but…"

Hilde wiped her eyes quickly with her forearm and cleared her throat again.

"When you said that to the vet—"our dog"—you sounded like my husband. So…I guess…anti-Semitism isn't as strong as it might be."

"No." Duo kissed the side of her face again. "It's not. Never with me."

Hilde choked on her breath, and a solitary tear spilled from her eyes and drifted down her cheek. Duo wiped it away with his fingers.

"Oh, God, Duo, I…I love you so much!"

"I love you too, Hilde," Duo said quietly, looking away. Each piece of shattered glass pierced into his soul, accounting for every tear Hilde would not allow herself to shed.

* * *

2: 43 PM—WINNER MANSION

"Hi, Quatre."

"Iria!" Quatre launched himself from the doormat and into his sister's arms. "I didn't know you were on your vacation."

"Yeah, I decided to take it. I also wanted to see your last field show of your high school career," Iria said as Quatre pulled back. "I'm having a snack, care to join me?"

"Sure!" Quatre dropped his bookbag alongside the couch and followed his twenty-nine-year-old sister into the dining room. She had made herself some tea, and poured some for her brother, as well. She reached into the fruit bowl and tossed Quatre an apple. She herself took an orange and sat down at the table. Quatre sat down across from her.

"How's work?" Quatre asked.

"Busy as ever. But, I'm being promoted to head of the OR staff."

"Really? That's great!"

"Means more work and the same pay, but it feels great to be the head of something," Iria said, smiling with self-pride. "I just wish it left some time open for a love life," she added, mock-wistfully. "Here I am, pushing thirty and no man to show for it…"

"You'll find someone, Iria, don't worry," Quatre reassured. "You're smart and talented and kind and beautiful. You'll find a guy."

"All the men I know are slobs or creeps or workaholics," Iria said. "It's no wonder some girls don't go for them."

"Iria, you know that it's a biological thing to be attracted to someone," Quatre reminded, suddenly very solemn.

"Yes, I know. "Biological for attraction, emotional for love", like you said." Iria glanced at her brother with discerning eyes. "Speaking of, has anyone been bothering you lately?"

Quatre opened his mouth and a small noise came out, but other than that, nothing.

Iria sighed and put down her half-peeled orange. "What's been going on, Quatre? Has anything been happening?"

"It's nothing horrible. Just…just some talk."

"Words hurt, Quatre," Iria said softly, staring at her brother. "You've always been so forgiving, but I can tell that it really bothers you. Have you said anything to Mother or Father yet?"

Quatre bowed his head. His silence was his answer.

"Quatre, you really should say something…"

"I can't." Quatre shook his head vehemently. "The last time I said something, they said that they'd send me to one of those anti-gay groups if it happened again."

Iria took a sip of tea, then put it down. "You know that they're really worried for you, Quatre. They want to make sure that you're safe."

"I know that, but…"

"But?"

"But…they also want me to "get better"," Quatre said, low but audible, his voice laden with an indescribable sorrow. "I can hear them when they talk about it. They think it's some sort of a condition…like I could get rid of it with enough medication. Or they think it's some kind of curse, like I'm following Satan or something…"

"Quatre, don't say that."

"It's true," Quatre deadpanned, without anger, only sorrow. "That's why…that's why I don't want them to know. I don't want to worry them into sending me away from Trowa and the others…"

Iria began toying with her orange peel. "Quatre, what if this turns…violent?"

"I've thought about that, Iria," Quatre said tiredly. "But I'd really hate myself if I ran away because of it. Some day people will accept people like me. Maybe…maybe me acting like a normal person and not running away will help that day come around quicker."

Iria reached her hand across the table and grabbed Quatre's. "You're so brave, Quatre. I'm sorry to put you on the spot like this, but I love you and I'm scared for you."

"I know," Quatre whispered.

The telephone rang, breaking the porcelain silence. Quatre stood and went to check the Caller ID.

"It's Duo," he announced, picking up the telephone. "Hello? …Hi, Duo. …What? …You're not serious. Is Hilde okay? …That's great. Don't worry, I'll account for you if they ask. …All right. Tell Hilde I'm so sorry, and if I can do anything to help, I'll do it. …Do you want me to call the others? …Oh, okay. All right. 'Bye."

"Quatre?" Iria asked as he hung up the telephone.

Quatre turned around with strangely empty eyes. "Do you remember Hilde Shbeiker?"

"Duo's girlfriend? Blue hair, blue eyes? Jewish?"

"Yeah, that's Hilde."

"What's the matter?"

"Someone destroyed her house."

"What!" Iria jumped up. "Why?"

"Because she's Jewish."

"Is she hurt?"

"No, Duo said the house was empty when they got there. He needed to call me so I could account for his and Hilde's absence if her parents don't let her go to the game tonight."

Iria sighed heavily. "Allah…what's wrong with the world? And you know what else, Quatre? This will mean bad publicity for us. Someone will blame it on the most predominant Arabic family within ten miles for an attack on Jews. Never mind the fact that you're friends with her." Iria sat down again. "And Quatre."

"Yeah?"

"This is why Mother and Father are worried. What if something like this happened? People do horrible things when they act righteous. You could be beaten, you could be killed…"

"I know that," Quatre said. "I thought about it long before I told Mother and Father I was gay. But I figured that I'm not much better than a homophobe if I'm going to hide myself because society doesn't like it."

Iria looked up at her brother with eye of mournful pride. "You're really brave, Quatre. You're a lot older than I was when I was 17." She looked down into her tea. "It's a very sad thing."

* * *

3: 09 PM—BARTON APARTMENT

"Sis?"

"Yeah, Trowa?" Cathy looked up from where she was concurrently stirring beef stew on their electrical stove.

"Shouldn't you be resting?" Trowa came up next to her.

"Darned if I become an invalid because of something like this," Cathy said with a very forced airy voice, giving the soup a few extra, hard stirs. "Get me some bowls, would you?"

Trowa complied silently, taking two bowls from his plain, wooden cabinet. Cathy's bright red-brown hair and gray-blue eyes were not only stark contrasts to each other but also to Trowa's threadbare apartment. Cathy seemed unconsciously determined to give his apartment the proverbial "woman's touch". The place did seem a little lighter and a lot less lonely and barren with her around.

"You know, it's because I wouldn't rest that I had to go to the doctor's, and if that hadn't happened I wouldn't have met you. So you should be grateful for a sister like me, eh?" Cathy turned off the stove and reached for a ladle with one hand and a bowl with the other.

"I'm looking out for you, Sis," Trowa said quietly.

Cathy brandished the ladle playfully at Trowa. "That's MY job. I'M the older sister, remember?"

The ladle slipped from Cathy's hand suddenly as her hand began to shake. She squinted her eyes shut and shook her head hard, and then grabbed the side of her face with both hands and pulled on her hair. Trowa was at her side in an instant.

"What is it?"

"Dizzy," Cathy breathed out, suddenly panting. "Room…spinning."

"Sit down." Trowa took her hand and led her from the kitchen to the living room, she stumbling several times along the way. He sat her down on the couch and leaned her in against the pillow backing. He leaned the back of his hand against her forehead. "You're burning up. I'm going to call 911."

Cathy's hand shot forward and grabbed Trowa's arm. "You can't afford that," she panted. "You're already…helping to pay for the transplant…"

"Stop worrying about that," Trowa ordered.

"Don't…call!"

As if a spell was broken, Cathy's head lifted and she was able to look at Trowa with eyes misted over by a film of moisture but clear and lucid.

"There. It's over." She wiped the moisture from her eyes and looked at her brother again, this time managing a wry smile.

Trowa pursed his lips, unable to be placated. He felt Cathy's forehead again. "You're still warm."

"You're not calling 911," Cathy snapped authoritatively. "I'll be fine. This has happened before. Just…can you get me some water, please?"

"Sure. I'll bring your soup, too."

"N-no thanks, I'm not very hungry now."

Trowa eyed her. "That's your symptoms talking. You need to eat. The iron in the beef will help with the anemia."

Cathy gave a half-sigh, half-chuckle. "I see my big sister attitude is hereditary."

"Yeah…suppose so."

* * *

4: 14 PM—DARLIAN MANSION

Relena ran her fingers through her hair, making sure that each strand was now dry enough for her to braid and pin up without it coming out as a mass of curls when she took the hair band outfrom it.

Her Drum Major uniform was laid out on her bed, next to the cordless telephone that she had tossed there after Hilde had called her to tell her about her house. It made Relena sick to think that someone could be so cruel, especially to Hilde. Hilde and Relena had become friends in unison with meeting each other and over the years had become almost like sisters. How could anyone desecrate a decent person's home like that?

_CRASH!_

Relena jumped away across her room as a rock smashed through her window. A jagged hole surrounded by a spider's web of cracks was now clearly visible in her window glass. The rock fell to the ground with a thud.

"Who's there!" Relena shouted, running to her window and throwing it open, narrowly avoiding the shards of glass that fell and shattered in the window pane. The yard was void of people. Trampled grass was the only sign that someone had been there.

Relena looked at the floor and knelt to inspect the rock. Copying Cassius to Brutus, a note was rubber-banded to the rock. A white dove was captured in a hawk's claws. The dove was bleeding from its stomach, wings, throat, and even its eyes. Written underneath, in bold red type, were the words "DEATH TO DOVES!"

"…Well, at least this one was creative," Relena said dumbly, standing up. Most of these messages displayed obscene and pornographic words or images, each with a similar proclamation of the uselessness of pacifists. Relena remembered once that her father's car windows had been smashed, his tires slashed, and the seats ripped into pieces. But no matter what they did, Relena was always shocked at what some people would go to.

This was the price one paid for opposing the war. Not that many people didn't, but it was certainly easier for the frustrated extremist war-hawks to take it out on the leading pacifist Congressman, also known as Mr. Darlian.

Relena recalled her and Dorothy's debates over the war, its aims, its accomplishments, and its repercussions in Debate Club; Relena as a dove, Dorothy as a hawk. She remembered nights after Congress meetings where her father came home with the defeated look of a beaten dog. She remembered joining several protests against the war, each peaceful in its means and each one overrun by warmongers or people freshly torn from loved ones feeling that the protestors were disrespecting those who had left or died.

Nothing was farther from the truth. Relena had been trying since 2003 to explain that she had neither contempt nor dislike of soldiers, only pity for the souls who were lost to war either literally or figuratively. She couldn't number the amount of letters she had stored away in a memory box, penned by her brother and soon-to-be sister-in-law, who were both currently on their way home from the war. She couldn't count on all her fingers the small snippets of letters that Heero had allowed her to read from his stepfather, who would be in Iraq for at least another three months. She couldn't begin to imagine the number of times she had bit her tongue from both worry and disagreement when Heero talked about the strong possibility of him joining the military after high school.

She hated wars because people died unnecessarily for silly things. Be it oil or money or land or power or the belief that man fights because it's programmed into him. Wars were senseless things that killed people, destroyed countries, and inevitably led to more wars. She had told this to Dorothy, Heero, her brother, and the Debate Club. She had been interviewed by both school and local newspapers on it. Her father quoted her in Congress.

And some people still didn't get it.

This was why, Relena realized suddenly, someone had trashed Hilde's home. Someone "hadn't gotten it", and what one doesn't understand, one fears. And when one is afraid, one goes to desperate extremes in order to "protect" themselves.

Relena looked at the stone on the floor with the same pity she used when looking at the souls being dragged off into another massacre. Then she turned around to her mirror and began braiding her hair, now with tears falling from her eyes.

* * *

4: 38 PM—LOWE-YUY HOUSEHOLD

Heero looked at the words written on the folded loose-leaf once more. The haphazard and cramped handwriting mixed with the wrinkled spots where sweat had dried denoted a writer who could only be Odin. It was addressed for three weeks ago, written with words that permeated their father-son relationship.

_-Heero,_

_I'm sorry I can't be there for your last game as a Senior. If I'm really lucky, I might be able to come home in time for your Band Trip, depending on the situation here in Hell._

_Yes, Hell. It's sandy, it's hot, and it's dirty. I'm in the middle of nowhere, avoiding mines by sheer luck. I haven't seen a town for weeks. It'd be nice to see people again. Ignore any news reports contradicting me, the people are generally pretty nice over here. Just my luck to get stuck where there's no people, eh?_

_I've been thinking about you lately, and how sucky a dad I've been. I hate having to be out here, especially now, when you're nearing graduation. I'm proud of your ambition to join the military but severely advise against it. Go to college and get an education before joining; you won't have to worry about terms of enlistment while you're still in school. Listen to that girlfriend of yours, Relena, her name is? Avoid fighting if you can. _

_Over here, it's been getting a lot more dangerous. Honestly, if I don't come home in three months I probably won't ever come home again. And I won't be able to write for a bit. This might be the last time I write to you. If that's the case, you keep what I say in mind. Follow your emotions. Listen to your heart. Live life in the present. I'm a sucky dad but I can guarantee that you'll live a good life if you follow my advice._

_At the risk of sounding corny, I love you, Heero._

_-If you can ever consider me a Dad,_

_Odin_

Heero folded up the letter and held it between his index and middle finger. He glanced over at the framed picture on their bookshelf. Odin stood facing the center, smirking at the camera, his hands in his pockets. A woman in a white wedding gown, her sandy-blonde hair down and her ocean-blue eyes sparkling with radiant happiness, pressed to her bosom a four-year-old child with a mess of brown hair and eyes identical to hers. At their feet, with the fancy handwriting of a sophisticated lady, was written in Russian:

Один, Rlяa, и Hяkru в мой свадебный день. День я не будет когда-либо забывать!

"Odin, Aralia, and Hikaru on my wedding day. A day I won't ever forget!"

Heero crossed the room to inspect the picture further. The little boy in the picture was laughing, content with the knowledge that life was stable once more, that two people and not one person would love him as their son.

A year later would destroy all that. A year later would announce that life was never stable. It was vengeful and treacherous and pernicious. One gun shot could change a person's life forever—could drag them across continents and oceans, could force them to live in hiding to protect one little life.

He lifted the picture and placed the letter right where it had been, then rested the picture on top of it. This time his eyes studied the woman. She'd had such a "mom" smell, the smell that didn't smell like anything else in the world but "mom". Her eyes were the most vivid things he remembered, next to her scent. They were eyes he had inherited. There always seemed to be tears in them—of pain, of sorrow, of laughter, of happiness. The only time her eyes had been completely dry was the day she…

No. He couldn't think of that now. If he did, nothing would stop him from taking the gun and shooting the first thing that looked remotely like that man. He squinted his eyes shut and forced himself to think of something else.

The old memory of Relena came back to him. Every time he remembered it felt like he was reliving it: the arms around his stomach, the fresh-picked-cotton scent of her hair, the laughter like precious metals. As often as it had been used it should've been dog-eared and age-worn, but it was new each time.

"My girlfriend Relena, huh?" he murmured, glancing at the letter underneath the picture. His face remained unmoved for an everlasting span of two seconds, and then the corner of his mouth tilted up in a smirk.

He turned toward the door and took the keys off the peg, opened the door and shut it behind him, went to his car, and drove away.

* * *

4: 45 PM—MAXWELL CHURCH

Hilde looked up from what must've been the fifth cup of tea Sister Helen had prevailed upon her. The nun was bustling around the sanctuary, nervously smoothing out creases in the bench cushions. At Hilde's urging, Davida Shbeiker was helping Sister Helen in her task. Rabbi Aaron Shbeiker and Father James Maxwell were still standing in the pulpit, talking in low voices.

"Hilde, wake up."

A pair of fingers snapped in front of her face, and she looked up. Duo was looking down at her concernedly.

"I don't think it's a good idea for you to come," he said, for what felt like the millionth time since Hilde announced her intention to go to the football game, despite the fact that her uniform had been thrashed into unrecognizable shreds of spandex and sequins. "If they come to the game…"

"I don't care if they come," Hilde said firmly. "I'm not hiding from them."

"Hilde." Duo squatted down in front of her and looked up into her face. "I admire your bravery. I really do. But people like that don't have any reason. If you go out in the open, you can bet that they'd try to hurt you. Maybe even try to kill you."

"And what about you? If they know that much about me, they could go after you, too," Hilde argued.

"Hilde, I lived for two years over in that ghetto, from when I was 5 until I came here. I know how to fight dirty like them."

"So I'm weak?"

Duo shook his head. "You're not weak. But you don't fight like they do. It's easier for you to get hurt when you can't fight like the other side can."

"I'd rather fight my own way," Hilde proclaimed, loudly and resolutely, in a voice that echoed around the sanctuary. "And I'm going to this game."

Duo swore loudly and stood up. "You're so frickin' stubborn. You're an idiot sometimes."

Hilde smiled up at him; mischief, resolution, and sorrow mixed together within that small smile. "You love me anyway."

"Yeah, to my misfortune," he growled, but a joking manner had crept into his voice. "They probably won't let you march without your uniform, but if we explain, they'll let you sit with the band. And if your parents and my family go too, I guess it should be okay. But if one person _looks_ at you funny, I'll have to kill them. And I'll hold you responsible for that…"

"Oh, shut up," Hilde said, pushing his leg. She stood up and slapped her face to get the blood circulating again. She took Duo's hand and stabbed his palm with her fingernails to make him squirm a bit, then smiled at him again.

"Mom, Dad? I've decided that I'm going to the game."


	4. December 7, 2004, Part 4

Disclaimer-I own nothing and nothing is mine.

Shout-outs-

Constant Reader: The fact that it's Pearl Harbor Day has nothing to do with the events, otherwise, stuff would be happening to Heero. I picked that day because it was the first day of Hanukkah, already into the school year, and the day I started writing. It IS odd, though. "Facts" are the stereotypical teenager talk about boys, girls, make-up, how much they hate their teachers/parents/the slut next to them, junk reserved for mediocre teen movies. "Truth" is my belief that teenagers are deeper than a bunch of hormones, and that comes out in my dialogue. The "facts" that I asked for were facts on the religions and diseases. It'd be insulting if I mess up the religious activities of Jews and Muslims, or use the wrong symptoms and treatments for Cathy's disease. I've gotten books, but additional information is appreciated. When someone says to an author, "Do yourself a favor and write something original", said author tends to take offense, especially when the story IS original (Who else has made Hilde Jewish? How many fics have Middie in them?), and the person did not read the whole thing. That's not criticism. That's being rude. I would appreciate it if you didn't write things like "It's obvious you've worked hard on this and what-not", or "I have hope for you yet" because, even though I know it's not intended, it comes across as condescending.

Lynn, Macu-Knight, Hellcat666, Solo, Nicole, BradyBunch5429, Ender Winner, Elly, and Ritsuko Akagi: Thank you for your great reviews.

Bleaky: You've given me an idea…

Pushpitake: Yes, I did use a translator. The Jews were NOT tortured because of religion, but because Hitler wanted a convenient scapegoat for the depression Germany was in, and the Jews were it. The Nazis weren't Catholic. They disliked Catholics, as well as Jews, gypsies, Slavs, cripples, and homosexuals.

Shao Jiang: "Sieg heil" means "Victory well-being", and "Sieg hiel" means "Victory got". I suppose either spelling might have been correct…But anyway, it's a term used in WWII among Nazis and Fascists.

Author's Notes-"_Salat al-jumah_" is the compulsory prayer meeting on Friday for Muslims. I couldn't find the time for it, so I made it sometime between 3 and 5. My source says that only men are required to go, and since I'm sick of Stereotypical!Islam, women go, too, if they want.

December 7th, 2004, Part 4

5: 02 PM—LONG DOJO

"Lemon…see-through in the sunlight," Nataku sang, swinging her head back and forth with the rhythm, eyes shut to keep the mundane of the real world from the utopia of music. "She wore lemon…but never in the daylight. She's gonna make you cry…she's gonna make you whisper and moan…"

"But when you're dry…she'll draw you water from a stone."

Nataku gave a small jump and turned around. Wufei was standing behind her, his eyebrows raised.

"U2 again?" Wufei stated more than asked, glancing at the dangling ear piece not attached to Nataku's ear.

"They're a good band," she said defensively, pulling the CD player out of her jacket pocket and turning it off.

"You play them all the time. I've memorized that entire Zooropa CD."

"Oh, well, excuse me. Heaven forbid I play music I like. Suck it up." She pointed her finger into his chest and pressed him backward. "If I ever DO lose my mind and marry you, you're gonna have to get used to U2."

"And if I don't?"

"You'll see what happens."

"Are you threatening me, Meilan?" he asked, smirking at her.

"Are you flirting with me, Wufei?" she shot back. She had started getting used to him calling her by her hated real name. From time to time she would remind him to call her by her nickname, but since her arguments never worked, she was choosing to pick her battles.

"God forbid." Centrifugal force took over as he swung his keys around his finger and into his palm around the key ring. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah," Nataku said, staring wistfully at the empty space where her own car usually sat. It had broken down the other day and had been towed into the local MAACO. Duo's Industrial Education class was working on it, and things were going quite smoothly, as Duo reported to her. She wasn't very reassured. Nor was she very happy that her grandfather insisted that Wufei take her to the school for the game. He'd said it was to "improve their relationship". Nataku's arguments that their relationship was irreparable had fallen on deaf ears.

"I'll drive back," she said, yanking open the door as Wufei unlocked it.

"Oh? And who said you could?" Wufei walked around the back of the car to the driver's seat.

"I said I could," Nataku responded. "This is America, Mr. Chang. I have equal rights in a relationship. So, if I say I'm gonna drive, I'm gonna drive."

"It's registered to me, Meilan. I have ownership rights."

Nataku coughed into her hand, a cough that sounded remarkably like the word "Sexist."

"Oh, will you shut up?"

"Make me," she dared, flickering her eyebrows up and down in a challenge. Her head ducked under as she sat down in the passenger seat and slammed the door shut.

Wufei pulled open the driver's door and got in. He shut the door and stuck the keys in the ignition. "How about whoever has a perfect run-through on the field drives back."

"Challenge extended. Challenge accepted." Nataku had to laugh at her Ross Geller imitation. After a few seconds, Wufei joined her.

"You know what? If we were a movie, people would be squealing "AAAAAAAAAWWWWWWW so cute they don't even know they're in love" right about now," Nataku said.

"People are strange," Wufei commented, glancing over at her from the driver's seat.

"Still, we'd make a good movie. "Two people, bound forcibly, find love in the most unlikely of places: each other"…and then they _die_. "I'll never let go Jack, I'll never let go"…"

"And then she let go," Wufei deadpanned. "For the millionth time, she _let go_."

"And people wonder why I don't want to marry Mr. Personality over here?" Nataku wondered aloud.

"You just don't know when to let something go."

"You just don't know when to stop being an..."

"We don't need course language, Meilan."

Nataku snorted, then propped her elbow up on the side windowsill and rested her head against her curled fingers. "I wonder who'd pay to see that movie?"

"Relena would."

"Yeah, she would," Nataku said, laughing. "She loves that sappy romantic stuff. Bet'cha she'd drag Heero along. Like a "first date" thing if she _ever_ asks him out. And Dorothy would go along to throw popcorn at them in the middle of the _most romantic_ love scene."

"That, I believe," Wufei acknowledged wittily.

5: 15 PM—F-WING

Dorothy tapped her pencil against her notebook and looked up from where she was sitting on the floor, leaning against her locker. A handful of people were just beginning to drift in. She was always everywhere early. She liked being ahead of the game. It gave you security, and she'd never had much security to begin with.

She was staring at her notes from before, with very little attachments to the words written previously, save the squiggly lines she had drawn in the margins out of boredom. She had called her cousin to ask to talk to his fiancé, Lady Une, but they hadn't been at home. The name couldn't be a coincidence. Middie herself had said she'd had a cousin named "Lady". It had taken Dorothy a few periods to remember that she knew a "Lady Une". Dorothy couldn't figure out why it had taken her so long to remember. Perhaps the mystery of Trowa and Middie was just too intriguing?

Dorothy knew she had, as other student would say, "no life", to be studying the past lives of an old friend and a new acquaintance, but as Dorothy would say, "Who cares?" She had chosen to take Psychology for a reason. She entertained some ideas of becoming a psychoanalyst in the future, seconded by her dream of becoming a computer engineer, and thirded by her dream of joining the military

Dorothy looked down at her notes again, but all the words were meshing together into one big pile of letters. She shut her notebook forcefully and plopped it onto the floor space next to her. She needed more information before she could make any headway.

"Hi, Dorothy."

Dorothy looked up to see Quatre standing over her.

"You're here early," Dorothy commented.

"Yeah, _salat al-jumah_ didn't take very long, so I could get back home and here quicker than usual."

Dorothy made an acknowledging noise in her throat. She glanced back at her notebook, and then at Quatre.

"Quatre, how much did Trowa tell you about when he was in France?"

Dorothy could see Quatre stiffen. Instantly she knew that her question wouldn't lead to any answers.

"You have to ask Trowa, Dorothy. I'm not gonna tell anyone what he told me, unless he says I can."

"He's really got you whupped, hasn't he Quatre?" Dorothy teased, raising her eyebrows.

Quatre's face dropped into a half-angry pout. "Does everyone think Trowa and I are together?"

"Let me put it this way. No one would be surprised if it happened," Dorothy said flippantly, picking up her notebook and standing up, turning while she did so to open her locker.

"Why are you asking me, anyway?" Quatre asked.

"Just wondering, really. 24-19..." Dorothy slammed her knee into her locker, opened the lock, and pulled open the door. "Don't tell me that, if you were me, you wouldn't be curious about what happened today." She fitted her notebook in between two of her text books and shut the door again, twisting the dial so it locked.

"Yeah, I would be, but…"

"Quatre!"

Quatre suddenly stumbled as an arm descended on his back, forcefully shoving him forward. Quatre regained his footing and turned around. One of the larger Tuba players was standing by him, a malicious, impish grin on his face.

"Sorry to startle you, Quatre. I know it's rude to shove a lady."

Quatre turned around and looked at Dorothy. "Anyway, Dorothy, don't ask Trowa…"

"Aw, how cute. Protective of your man."

"Don't ask Trowa about it. He doesn't like talking about it."

"Talking about what? Your daily make-out sessions?"

Dorothy pushed Quatre away with a sweep of her arm and stepped forward. The Tuba player was two feet taller than she was and loomed over her menacingly with a stupid grin on his face. Dorothy opened her mouth, a distraction for what she was about to do.

The Tuba player was soon howling in agonizing pain, and Dorothy turned back to Quatre, smiling.

"Dorothy, that was…"

"Satisfying? Enjoyable? The most entertaining thing you've seen in years?"

"…a bit overboard," Quatre finished, looking slightly embarrassed.

Dorothy made a face. "I don't get why you let people make fun of you like that, Quatre."

"What does fighting with them do?" Quatre signaled for Dorothy to follow him as he went to his locker, which Dorothy complied with. "I'd rather not have to beat anyone up just to stop them from making fun of me."

"You're just like Relena," Dorothy said despairingly. "Why do you think she's always getting rocks thrown at her window? Because she won't fight back. If that girl was jumped, I'll bet my life's savings that she'd give them all her money. And then she'd give them advice on where to go for therapy for kleptomania."

"Well, I wouldn't go _that_ far," Quatre said, turning the dial for his locker combination. "I _was_ jumped once, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember," Dorothy said. She had seen Quatre the next day, his face and arms purpled in some areas, with an odd mixture of triumph and sorrow in his expressions.

"Well…I didn't _like_ having to fight, but I couldn't let myself get beat up."

Dorothy nodded. "I know exactly what you mean. You thought you might die if you didn't fight back. Your mind went completely blank. You just got so scared and mad that you had to do something. So you beat the "shite" out of them," Dorothy smirked at her play on words.

"Well…" Quatre looked embarrassed. "Maybe."

"You're an interesting piece of psychology, Quatre," Dorothy said, eyeing him. "Can I use you for my next report?"

Quatre laughed. Dorothy was always fascinated with Quatre's laughter. It was never plain and simple, out-and-out laughing. It always just barely betrayed an underlying hurt, laden down with weariness and loneliness yet void of shame.

"Why'd you come down here, anyway?" Dorothy asked, watching as Quatre opened his locker.

Quatre began digging in the bookbag he had carried into the school. "Aside from an excuse to walk away from that guy, I did my homework on the bus so I'm putting it away." He emptied a white binder into his locker, then shut the door and locked it. "Hey, Relena!"

Dorothy turned around to see Relena approaching them, her uniform slung over her shoulder on a hanger.

"Are you okay, Relena?" Quatre asked, seeing up close that Relena's eyes looked red.

"Yeah, just…someone threw a rock at my window again," Relena said, bringing her clothes around her shoulder to her front.

"I'm getting an odd sense of déjà vu," Dorothy muttered. "Did you get hurt?" she continued, clearly.

"No, I jumped out of the way in time." Relena slung her clothes over her arm. "Dorothy, come with me?"

"Sure. 'Bye, Quatre." Dorothy followed Relena into the bathroom, leaving Quatre to stand alone, staring at a spot on the floor, wondering why everyone seemed so intent on attacking his friends today. First Hilde and then Relena, and the Tuba player's obnoxiousness, and the people who had given Iria dirty looks when she walked out of the mosque wearing her _hijab_. Just who else was going to be targeted?

"Quatre?"

Quatre turned around at the unfamiliar voice.

"Middie?"

The blonde girl looked nervous; she was clutching her necklace as she looked at him.

"What are you doing here?"

"Relena told me that No-…Trowa is in the band. I came early to see if I could talk to him before he went on. I have to leave soon."

"He's not here yet."

Middie sighed and looked at Quatre searchingly. "He really told you everything, right?"

"Yeah, he did."

"No-Name…Trowa never talked even when we were friends. He would always just say that he didn't feel like talking after what happened when he was a baby." Middie sent Quatre another searching look. "He never told me what happened when he was a baby. Did he tell you?"

"Yeah. We—me and the others—all know the general story."

"And the details?" Middie pressed.

"Just me."

Middie bit her lip, and then shook her head. "That's too out-of-character for No-…Trowa. He doesn't trust people that easily." She shook her head again, this time sorrowfully. "I had the world's biggest crush on the Human Rock. It took him months to even hold a normal conversation with me. I don't think he ever really trusted me completely. And I guess he was right not to." She looked up at Quatre with eyes that pleaded for forgiveness while shining with defiance. "But he _knows_ I had to do it. If I hadn't squealed, my father would've _died_! What did he want me to do? Does he think I _liked_ spying on the Captain!"

"No, Middie…no." Quatre looked around to make sure no one was listening in, and then leaned in closer to Middie, his hands on her shoulders. "It's not like that. He _knows_ you had to do it. I think he's forgiven you. But he can't forget that the Captain died. I guess he thinks that if he stays away from you, he _can_ eventually forget and move on, you know?"

"I wish he had the guts to say that to my face instead of having you say it," Middie huffed, her face now pink.

"He didn't ask me to tell you, it's just what I think. And Middie, I think you're both doing it the wrong way. I think you both need to talk it out. You're not gonna get anywhere if you just…"

"Quatre! Cheating on Trowa with a _girl_? Man, pick a side and stick with it, why don't'cha?"

Quatre's face blanched as Middie's eyes widened. Why now, of all times, did someone decide to crack a gay joke?

"Are you…and No-Name…boyfriend and boyfriend?"

"No!" Quatre exclaimed vehemently. "Don't listen to what anyone says, Trowa and I are not going out."

"Is he…?"

"No. Trowa's straight."

"Are _you_ straight?"

Quatre's face flushed. Why was this an issue with everyone, for every single day of his life? Why did he have to answer to Middie, of all people?

"No. Quote-unquote, I'm about as straight as a circle." Quatre winced slightly at the memory of two people commenting on him years ago. Two Geometry teachers, just for the cruel irony, it seemed to him.

Middie bit her lip. Quatre's first instinct was that she was suppressing some comment that she thought might offend him. But a small snort escaped Middie's mouth, followed by a barely intelligible giggle.

"What? What is it?"

"Oh, God, I'm so pathetic," Middie laughed. "I'm standing here talking to you, knowing full well that No-Name is straight, and all scared that he's going out with you." She covered her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking. Quatre had a feeling it wasn't laughter that moved her now. "He left seven years ago, and I'm still in love with that frickin' Human Rock." She looked up at Quatre, tears now streaming down her face. "But he might as well be with you, he'll tell you everything that he wouldn't tell me, even though you deny being with him and it's so frickin' blatantly obvious that I'm still in love with him. Oh my God!"

"Middie, Middie, it's okay." Quatre tightened his grip on her shoulders. "Just…come here."

Quatre pulled her way into the gap between a set of lockers and the double doors, and gently guided her into sitting on the heating vent located there. "Just cry it out here, okay? No one can see you, and when everyone gets here no one will hear you, either. It'll be too loud."

Middie wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "You're good at this," she said, choking on a sob.

"I know what it feels like," Quatre said soothingly.

"Why, have you ever been in love with him?" she sniffled while laughing bitterly.

Silence greeted her question. Middie wiped her eyes again and looked into Quatre's face. Something in Quatre's stricken eyes clicked in her brain. Realization dawned on her face.

"Oh dear God, you have."

"Middie…"

"And let me guess," she interrupted. "You still are. You and I are in exactly the same boat. We both love him. The only thing different is that I call him "No-Name" and you call him "Trowa". But…he hates being called "No-Name" and…and he likes being called "Trowa"…" Middie buried her face in her arm. "God, I'm going to lose Trowa to a _guy_."

"Middie, don't jump to conclusions like that. I'm not in love with Trowa."

"Liar."

"…And even if I was, Trowa is not in love with me."

"Seems like it to me!" Middie shouted, looking up. "You say you don't love him, but he still tells you everything. He knows I love him and he won't tell me jack squat."

"Middie, it's not like that. It's just the circumstances."

"Sure. Whatever." Middie stood up and wiped her eyes again. "Look, Quatre, thank you for trying to help me out. It must be weird for you, whether you want to admit it or not. I'm going to the bathroom and then I'm going to leave. I'll talk to No-Name later. I'll be sure to call him "Trowa"."

Middie turned away from Quatre and walked across the hallway towards the bathroom, unconsciously feeling Quatre's eyes following her until she turned into the bathroom. The moment she stepped in the bathroom a fresh sob emitted from her lips.

Dorothy and Relena stopped talking immediately and looked at her. Both were in various states of uniformed; Dorothy was pulling on her overalls and Relena was buttoning her jacket.

"Middie?" Relena asked softly.

"What? Can't a girl cry in public every now and then?" Middie turned towards the sink and turned on the faucet. She caught some water in her cupped hands and splashed it on her face.

"What happened?" Relena asked.

"It's about Trowa," Dorothy stated plainly.

"How…?"

"I have better ears than you do, Relena," Dorothy said, tapping the side of her face, before seizing her shoulder strap and fastening it. "And better instincts, too."

"Yeah, it's about Trowa," Middie half-laughed, half-cried. She wiped her face with her sleeve and turned to look at the girls. Dorothy looked up, having successfully fastened both shoulder strap clasps. "How long has Quatre been in love with him?"

"Since Sophomore year," Dorothy deadpanned, ignoring Relena's indignant cry of "Dorothy!".

"Do you think No-Name…Trowa…is in love with him, too?" Middie asked.

"To be perfectly honest, I think he is and doesn't realize it yet," Dorothy stated bluntly.

"What about you, Relena? Being brutally honest, what do you think?"

"I think that I…I agree with Dorothy," Relena said, attempting tact. "At least about Quatre. I don't know if Trowa loves him back or not."

Middie made a small, guttural noise and turned back to the sink. She began straightening out her hair by running her fingers through it.

"Are you all right?" Relena asked.

"I don't think she is," Dorothy said, walking towards Middie. She stooped at her side and leaned over so she could see Middie's face at a glance. Tears were again forming at the corners of Middie's eyes. "Come on, Middie, don't cry. If you do, Relena and I'll have to stay here with you and we'll miss the Anthem. Relena's Drum Major; she can't afford that."

Middie looked at Dorothy with a look of resentful anger. Dorothy rested her elbow on the sink counter and propped up her chin on the balls off her palm. With a completely straight face Dorothy opened her mouth and with a small bounce of her jaw bit her pinky fingernail, and cocked her eyebrow.

Middie laughed. She wiped away her tears with her three middle fingers of both hands.

"Thanks for your sympathy," she said, looking at Dorothy with eyes that still shone but were finally dry.

"Works like a charm," Dorothy said, straightening up with self-satisfaction.

"Which you have plenty of, I'll give you that," Relena allowed. "Middie, I've honestly never met someone who can change your mood better than Dorothy can. Why is it so hard to stay mad at you?"

"Because I am just the mistress of charm and grace," Dorothy said sarcastically. "Middie, I think you should talk to Trowa, unless you want this to turn into some mediocre soap opera. Which would be interesting but very, very clichéd."

"Quatre said that, too," Middie conceded.

"God, what an idiot," Dorothy said, rolling her eyes. "Telling his rival for Trowa's love to work it out with him. That boy is too nice."

"Aren't you Quatre's friend? Why are you talking about him like that?"

"Because, being viciously honest, I think Quatre and Trowa are going to end up together no matter what, and I'm giving you fair warning." Seeing Middie's face go red, Dorothy continued. "I also think that _you_ need some kind of closure. That's why you should talk to Trowa."

"And why do you care?" Middie shot at her.

"Because you're interesting."

"I'm what?"

"What a lovely way to become friends with somebody," Relena muttered, straightening the fingers in her gloves.

"Relena, what does she mean?" Middie asked.

"I don't understand what she means all the time, either, so I can't really help you there," Relena said, defeated.

"I mean that I'm interested in you," Dorothy said.

"Are you coming on to me?"

"No. But I'm a Psyche major, and I want to see if this actually helps people. I want to see if jealousy really overcomes love or if every romantic movie on Earth is telling the truth."

"Thanks for making me into an experiment."

"At least I told you what I was doing. I didn't tell Relena that I was studying her."

"Yes, I only heard about it when Heero got suspicious," Relena put in. "But it was just about what I thought of the war, so I didn't really mind much."

"O gracious and benign one," Dorothy deadpanned.

Middie laughed again. She wiped the final tears from her face and managed a shaky smile. "Thanks, this was helpful."

"Are you sticking around for the show?" Relena asked.

"Oh, no, I have to leave." Middie said. Dorothy cocked her eyebrow.

"Are you sure you can't stay?" Relena pressed. "We—me, Dorothy, and the others—are getting together afterwards at the Friendly's. It might be the best way to talk to Trowa, if you can pull him aside."

Middie looked down at her watch. "I might be able to meet you there, but I really have to go. I'm almost late."

"For what?"

"Work. I have to be there at 6, it's 5: 30 now."

"Oh man, glad we got here early, then. We have to be on the track at 6: 15," Dorothy said.

"I'll bet the others are here by now, too," Relena said. "Middie, want me to tell Trowa that you were here?"

Middie shook her head. "No, I'll talk to him later. Thanks again."

"Anytime," Relena said.

"See you around," Dorothy concluded, as Middie waved her hand and sojourned from the bathroom, in a slightly nicer mood than when she had entered.

5: 35 PM—F-02 BAND ROOM

"I see…" the Band Director, Mr. Luvsmit said, eyeing Hilde.

"It's the truth, I swear it," Hilde said.

"Oh, I believe you," Mr. Luvsmit said reassuringly. "I just wish I couldn't. I wish people would get over this nonsense."

"Yeah, you're not the only one," Duo muttered from beside Hilde.

"Hilde, you know that it's necessary for a band to look uniform, so I can't let you march," Mr. Luvsmit sighed resignedly.

"At least let me sit with the band in the stands," Hilde pleaded. "I'll even help the Pit Crew. Just let me stay with the band."

Mr. Luvsmit stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I think…the situation warrants it. Yes, Hilde, you can sit with the band."

Hilde broke into a grateful smile. "Thank you."

"In fact…Hilde, you know how to conduct. If Heero and Relena don't have any problems with it, I think we can let you conduct the last song. They're your friends, so I doubt they'll have too big a problem with it."

"That'd be great!" Hilde exclaimed elatedly, her face lighting up. "What should I do? Should I march out with the band, what?"

"No, you just wait in the stands and I'll signal you to get on the conductor's stand. Strictly speaking, this is taboo band-wise, but I'd say what happened to you is even worse."

"I'm worried about her safety, " Duo interjected. "If someone will attack her house in broad daylight, someone might attack her when it's dark and it's too crowded and noisy to hear her."

"I will personally make sure that she stays safe when I go to the stands," Mr. Luvsmit assured. "Until then, am I right in saying that her parents are here?"

"Yeah, they're here," Hilde said unanimously with Duo, resulting in a weak and equally simultaneous giggle from the pair.

"My father and sister are here, too," Duo said. It had been his experience that it was easier to simply call Father Maxwell and Sister Helen with the terms familiar to most students. An explanation required his telling of his adoption, a topic he did not relish in, and also mandated his explanation as to why a Protestant minister was called "Father" and why there was a nun under said denomination. Most people did not seem satisfied with his clarification that James Maxwell was called "Father" due to a misunderstanding when people heard Helen call him "Father"—since he was, in fact, her biological father—and no one had bothered to stop even after the truth was revealed, since James was the kind of person who commanded the respect and adoration accorded to a Catholic "Father"; and that Sister Helen was a nun simply because she wanted to be.

"I'm sure they'll look after her," Mr. Luvsmit said. "Go and find Heero and Relena, I need to talk to them."

Duo and Hilde nodded and mumbled their gratitude and turned towards the door.

"Thanks for your concern, _Dad_," Hilde said sarcastically, shoving open the door.

"Oh, the gratitude I get for looking out for my girlfriend," Duo muttered, equally acerbic.

Hilde pursed her lips to the side of her face and rolled her eyes jokingly, punching him in the arm. "I'm happy you're worried about me."

"Then why are you so down on me telling Mr. Luvsmit about it?"

Hilde paused for a moment, both orally and in walking. One of Duo's attributes was that every once in a while he made her really stop and think. "I…I guess I'm so used to taking care of myself that anyone trying to help me seems like they're being overbearing. I don't like being controlled. I don't even like being _protected_. It's annoying to me. It's horrible, Duo, but when you helped me escape from Trant the first thing I felt was _resentment_."

"I understand, believe it or not," Duo said, reaching out his arm to link with hers. "I _hated_ when I was first adopted because I was so used to looking out for myself and the other orphans that it was condescending when someone suddenly expected to take care of me. But…you know…it's okay to need somebody every once in a while."

"Mm." Hilde looked down at her nails. Just a few hours earlier she had been all ready to be weak with Duo. Even now, the mental image of her dog dying, mutilated, made her nauseous. She didn't even know if her dog was still alive; the veterinarian had not called yet.

But the memory of her life in Germany was even more powerful. In her old neighborhood, anti-Semitism ran rampant; some families still had swastika flags hidden away in their houses. Her school life had been horrible. Her few friends were forced to desert her by their parents, either because of their own prejudice or because they feared for their children's lives if the hung out with "_that Jewess_". When she cried in school, she was bullied mercilessly for her "weakness", and everything from name-calling to book-stealing to rock-throwing to actual life-threatening from older students had happened to her while she was still in her first year of school.

"Babe? Still with me here?"

"Huh?" She looked up quickly. "Oh…yeah, I'm still here, Duo. Let's go find Heero and Relena. Actually, I'll find them. You still need to change."

Duo glanced at her. "You look really pale."

"Duo, stop worrying about me for two minutes and change. I promise I won't suddenly die if you leave my sight for that long."

"Knock on wood," Duo said, rapping against Hilde's head.

"Oh, knock it off," Hilde said, batting him away playfully.

"I'm trying, but it seems to be glued on pretty tight," Duo responded, pushing her head.

"Just go get changed!"

"As you wish." He gave her a peck on the cheek followed by an even quicker hug, then waved at her as he headed towards the men's bathroom. Hilde watched his retreating form for a few minutes. Then she turned to find Heero and Relena.


	5. December 7, 2004, Part 5

Disclaimer-I still do not own Gundam Wing.

Everyone: Guys, you have to remember that I'm using several sources. If my sources say "Sieg Hiel" is a Nazi term, that's what I'm going to use. However, I recognize that not every source is valid. That's why I really appreciate the corrections you give me. They help me make sure I'm accurate and keep me from offending anybody. But it would be nice if the people giving me corrections would also write something about why they like the story, if they like the character portrayal, experiences similar to the characters', etc. It would just be nice if people gave constructive criticism _and_ nice comments all in one. That being said, I'd like to thank you all for not one flame. I expected a flame for tackling such controversial subjects, but not one yet::::Knock on wood:

Katy: Thank you for the correction; I'll change that when I get the chance. Also, I didn't see any other anonymous reviewer saying the same thing, or if I did, I forgot it.

Shao Jiang: My translations are correct, but everything else is wrong!

Lynn: Thank you for your faithful reviewing.

Pushpitake: Yes, they did hate Catholics, because they were political rivals. The Ultimate!Nazi, according to Hitler and his henchmen, had to have: blond hair, blue eyes, a Protestant family for at least 7 or 8 generations, and a full-blooded German lineage. None of which Hitler had, as far as I know…

Author's Notes-Iria is Quatre's only sister in the vicinity. All of his other sisters live out-of-state, and most of them have their own families (The oldest ones are in their forties, the youngest ones are in college). You'll eventually see all of them, at least in passing. I won't tell you where, though, that would mean one huge spoiler. :Hears whines and complains…hopefully: "_Baruch HaShem_" is a Hebrew exclamation meaning "Blessed be the Name". The Unitarian denomination is technically a Christian denomination, but it accepts all faiths. Margaret Mitchell wrote "Gone With The Wind".

December 7th, 2004, Part 5

5: 38 PM—F-WING

"Our last game," Relena murmured, leaning against a set of lockers, watching Heero pull on his gloves. "I can't believe it. There's just a few parades and the Band Trip left, and then we'll graduate and it'll all be done."

"Have you decided where you're going for college?" Heero asked, dropping his hands as his gloves were now on securely.

"I'm still deciding. I'm leaning towards Albertson, but I could only get a Bachelor's there…still going to West Point, Heero?"

"Yeah." He thought back to the letter Odin had written him, advising him to avoid the military. But he had always been strong-willed and obstinate, amazingly, not to Odin's chagrin. If it was something Heero wanted to do, Odin certainly would not stop him.

Relena sighed.

"What?"

"I don't like it," Relena said flatly. "You know that I'm a Dove. I don't see how anything good can come from a war."

"I'd say something good came of World War II, a dictator was put out of power."

"That war happened because of a World War _I_. And anyway, I worry too much about you." She flashed a smile at him. "All the casualties is another thing. You kill one person, their family takes revenge, and then the family of the avenged gets revenge and bam! Before you know it, there's another war, and more casualties. And…this is beginning to sound like one of my and Dorothy's debates. Long and short of it is, you can fight for your country in _politics_ just as easily as in the military."

"I agree with the theory but the reality is different. You fight to put evil people out of power, by killing them if necessary. That's what I plan on doing."

"I know," she said. "But I'll still worry about you. We just have barely a year left together and then we're all off. I'm nervous about you joining the military. Dorothy too, for that matter, but least she's looking into other things, so I can worry more about _you_."

Heero made a small noise in his throat. His mind drifted back to the letter, to Odin's simple sentence, _"your girlfriend, Relena"_. He had probably written it with his arid sense of humor, not realizing that this was something that Heero had been struggling with since Freshman year.

"Relena?"

"Hmm?" She looked over at him from where she had been searching out the hallway, contemplating the approximate amount of minutes she had before she had to call everyone to line up.

"Would you…like to…"

""Like to" what?" she asked, cocking her eyebrows curiously.

"Go out sometime?" he finished hurriedly, wishing that his tongue had not moved so fast.

Relena blinked. "Are you asking me out, Heero?"

That was not what he had expected. What had he been expecting, again? "Yeah. I am."

Somewhere inside Heero, a loud sigh of relief was sounded when Relena's face lit up in dark pink like icicle lights on a Christmas tree. Her smile widened, a sight he was always glad to see.

"I'd love to," she said, her face shooting off a pleased and embarrassed cherry-colored warmth. "When?"

Heero mentally went over his schedule for the days proceeding after this one. "Tomorrow or next Saturday, after the meeting?"

"I'm free both times," Relena said, almost excitedly. "How about tomorrow? What would you want to do?"

Heero shrugged. "We can go straight from the meeting to downtown and find something to do there. Nothing especially comes to mind."

"Me, neither," Relena agreed. "We could get something to eat and walk around for a while. Maybe catch a movie if one comes up. It's a date, then?"

"…Yeah. It's a date."

"Sorry to interrupt," a small Alto voice disrupted the nervous silence. Hilde appeared in their view, looking slightly bashful at the scene she had just witnessed. "Mr. Luvsmit wants to see you two."

"Oh, Hilde, I didn't think you'd come." Relena draped her arms around Hilde and squeezed her friend. "Are you holding up okay?"

"Yeah, I'm tough," Hilde said matter-of-factly. "But I can't march—they tore up my uniform."

"People suck," Heero deadpanned.

"Mr. Luvsmit is letting me conduct the last song if you guys don't mind—that's what he wants to talk to you about."

"That's fine with me," Relena said reassuringly. "Heero?"

"Yeah, I don't care," Heero said.

"Go tell him that," Hilde said.

"Mm." Heero used the locker to push himself upright and began to walk towards the set of wooden double doors with the panels peeling off that led to F-02. Relena stepped forward to follow, but Hilde's hand lightly grabbed her arm.

"He asked you out?" she questioned in a giddy whisper.

Relena turned to Hilde, a smile on her face that defied all laws of length restriction on mouths. "Yeah."

"_Baruch HaShem_!" Hilde ejaculated, excitedly flinging her arms around her friend and squeezing her. "Took you guys long enough."

Relena laughed and hugged her friend back. "Oh, but y'know, I feel bad to be so happy when…"

Hilde cut her off with a duck-like motion of her hand. "Please don't talk about that. This is our last game and I want to enjoy it, okay? I know you're already planning to use Service Club to fundraise—and here's your early "thanks", by the way—but can you just not talk about it now?"

Relena looked slightly taken aback, but nodded acquiescingly. She was still not used to her friends' needs for dropping a topic and hopefully never seeing it resurface again. Her foster family had encouraged her to be outspoken almost to the point of indiscretion from the age of eleven onward. She could not see the point in never talking, but also could not see the point in pushing her friends and making them angry at her.

"So anyway…where? When? I want details now!"

"Hilde, you're happy," a male voice said from behind them.

"Oh, God forbid," Hilde joked, turning around to see Duo fully uniformed. "Heero finally asked Relena out."

"No kidding." Duo turned to Relena and flashed her a smile. "Ah, now you too may know the joys the female has in making the male's life miserable…"

"Oh, shut up," Hilde said, punching Duo's arm. "You adore me."

"Ah, yes, you see Relena, therein lies the problem," Duo said, unable to be held back even by Hilde's admonishing expression. "You prey on the male's all-too-susceptible loving hearts and—"

"Relena?"

All three turned to look towards F-02. Heero held the door open, leaning out to look at them.

"Mr. Luvsmit wants to talk to you, too, and Hilde, to work out the change."

"Oh, okay," Relena said, stepping forward.

Heero sent a glare at Duo.

"What'd I do?" Duo queried defensively.

"Don't harass Relena because I asked her out," Heero said simply, darkly, before shutting the door again.

Duo shook his head. "His Spidey Sense was tingling…or should I say, his "'Lena Sense"?"

Relena blushed slightly again and pulled on Hilde's arm. "Come on, we have to hurry."

"See you in the stands, babe," Duo said, pulling Hilde towards him and kissing her good-bye. "You watch out for yourself out there, okay?"

"I'll be fine; if you screw up on the field because you're worrying about me I'll hurt you. Severely." She kissed him again and stepped back. "Come on, Relena."

"It must be so nice," Relena said, as the pair of them stepped away from Duo, who also turned to find his spot in line. "To have what you and Duo have."

"It is," Hilde said, her expression reflective. "I really can't imagine being without Duo now, after everything we've done together."

"Hilde, do you think he'll ask you to marry him?" Relena asked, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper in respect of Hilde's liking of privacy.

"I think he might," Hilde replied, almost without thinking. A seed of an idea, that she and Duo might have something just slightly beyond a high school fling, had long since sprouted into a rose bush of knowing that this was the closest thing to destiny that their Free Will-believing minds would allow.

Relena reached out and pushed open the doors to F-02.

"Well, when he does," she remarked lightly, "you just make sure to make me your maid-of-honor, mm-kay?"

Hilde laughed. "Of course."

5: 47 PM—FOOTBALL FIELD BLEACHERS

"Think they'll be surprised to see us here?" a Bass voice asked humorously, settling down on the bench and gazing out at the field.

"Pleasantly, I hope," a female Alto responded on the same vein.

"They adore you, Noin, so I think that'll be the case."

Lucretzia Noin smiled at her fiancé. "You know, Zechs, you're going to have to stop calling me by my maiden name soon."

"That'll be a hard habit to break," Alexander Darlian said jokingly, sitting down next to them. Relena had left before he had gotten home; he and his wife Victoria had sojourned to the high school directly after they returned to the house, still blissfully unaware of the shattered glass that littered the windowsill and the floor directly under it in Relena's room.

"Where is it going to be held, again?" Alexander questioned.

"At the Friend's Meeting House in Dupont Circle," Noin informed them.

"And who from the school are you inviting?" Victoria queried.

"All nine of them," Noin filled in. "We can afford it; aside from them we have less than fifteen people coming."

"Speaking of them," Alexander interrupted, "isn't that Hilde?"

"What? Where?" Noin raised herself slightly off her seat and scanned the crowds. Hilde was slowly making her way up the bleacher steps, chewing her thumbnail. "Hilde! Hilde, over here!"

Hilde looked up. "Noin!" Her face broke out in a smile upon catching a glimpse of her cousin's face. She picked up the pace and managed to stumble to their row, getting past the other spectators with muttered "Excuse me" and "I'm sorry". "What are you doing here?"

"Zechs and I just got back this morning; we decided to come and see you. What are you doing up here? Shouldn't you be getting ready?"

Hilde's face fell. "Guess you haven't seen Mom and Dad yet."

"No, I haven't seen Uncle Aaron or Aunt Davida," Noin said, puzzled and now feeling a ball of worry accumulating in her stomach. "What's the matter? What happened?"

"Someone trashed our house."

"Someone _what_!" Noin stood up, earning herself many catcalls from the audience behind her. Hilde pushed her back into her seat. "What happened!"

"Someone broke in before I got home and trashed the house. They tore up my uniform—I can't march. And they attacked Annie." A tight bulge formed in Hilde's esophagus that she couldn't swallow away. "She's at the vet's right now."

"Oh my God, Hilde." Noin pulled her cousin into a strong hug. "Where are Uncle Aaron and Aunt Davida?"

"Somewhere in the stands," Hilde said, shrugging tightly. "I'm sitting where the band normally does. Mr. Luvsmit worked it out that I can conduct the last song on the field, and the Anthem, too."

"I'm so proud of you," Noin said, pulling her into an even stronger hug. "You show people what you're made of."

"I will," Hilde said, biting her lip to keep from crying again as Zechs, Alexander, and Victoria muttered their condolences. She pulled back and squatted to keep the jeering from the other viewers to a non-entity. "So, why'd you come here?"

"Aside from the fact that we wanted to see your last game, its because we needed to round you up and invite you to the wedding."

"You set a date?" Hilde's expressive face lightened considerably at the prospect of her cousin's wedding, a dream that they had planned together since their childhoods.

"Yes, finally. It's December 26th," Noin said rapturously, trying to drown out her worry over the events of earlier with the vision of her upcoming wedding. "It's at the Quaker Meeting House in Dupont Circle at noon."

"That's Duo's church!" Hilde said happily. "Talk about irony. Well, I can tell you that Mom, Dad, and me will definitely be there," Hilde affirmed.

"We've arranged for Zech's Unitarian minister to officiate, just so there're no problems," Noin said, smiling reassuringly and bitterly at the same time. There had been some turmoil within her father's family when he announced his intention to marry a Christian woman and convert. Seen as a traitor to his family in the face of the resentment that burned like a bitter candle flame in the souls of the parents who had just barely survived the Holocaust, Hilde's mother had been his only familial ally in his aims to be married peacefully.

"Oh, don't worry about that," Hilde said eagerly. "They don't care about me dating Duo, they won't care where you get married."

"I knew I could count on you for that," Noin said warmly. She glanced at the field. "They'll marching out soon, you'd better get going."

"Yeah, I have to look for Mr. Luvsmit's signal."

Noin and Hilde pecked each other in the cheek simultaneously, and then Hilde waved at the small group and made her way from the row.

6: 25 PM—TRACK

Nataku watched the other team's band silently, sweating under her heavy uniform even in the cold December wind. She had barely the patience to wait for them to get through, what seemed to her, their agonizingly slow four songs. Joining band had been her pet idea and she still loved it to this moment, but the discipline that went with it always seemed to be slipping out of her tolerance limitations. She wanted to get out there and play, dang it!

Her eyes took to drifting in the direction of other band members, and this time was no exception. The first person she noticed was Relena all the way in the front, with a pleased aura around her. Word traveled fast in the band; without directly asking Nataku knew that Heero had finally asked Relena out. All she could think was "It's about time".

Her eyes next wandered over to Duo, whose nervousness was quite obvious in his face as he searched the bleachers for Hilde's small, skinny form. Nataku was amazed that Hilde had convinced him of her capability to go. She knew—they all did—that Duo's blithe personality was a façade. His parents had abandoned him at age five and his best friend had died at age six. It was amazing that he hadn't been scarred into anti-sociality. In fact, he seemed to be rushing headlong in the opposite direction—a worrywart that could put an impoverished single mother with a sickly child to shame.

The next and last object of her gaze was none other than Wufei. Very few times did she stop and consider the exact relationship she had with him, but now, with what seemed like an infinite amount of free time, was as good a time as any to contemplate it.

Nataku had known Wufei from babyhood—their parents had traveled together back and forth to China for years even before her and Wufei's births. It had been a very typical boy-girl mutual hate relationship—the male supremacist and the spunky female tomboy. It would make creators of teen movies weep with joy to see their very often fights.

What frustrated Nataku so much was that their differences didn't amount the same as their similarities. Barring the obvious aspects of themselves—their shared Chinese Mahayana Buddhist heritage—there were several small facets of their personalities that screamed compatibility. Their shared dream of joining the police force, their both reactionary and progressive attitudes, their swift tempers, their contempt for sappy romance, their love of martial arts, everything that would paint the words "MEANT TO BE" in blaring neon rainbow colors. Half the time she didn't know what she was so frustrated at; did she hate the fact that they were so alike ergo so destined, or did she hate the fact that they were enemies despite their similarities?

Her eyes narrowed as she watched him stare intently out at the other band, studying their every move, looking for ways to give a performance better than theirs. That was one thing she knew she hated about him; his superiority complex. No one had ever humbled him—both their parents had died in the line of duty when they were four years old, and Wufei's uncle whom he called Master O had not taken any steps to tone down his ego.

She had once confronted him about that, and his answer had been an amused yet indignant, "Pot? Kettle?", which had sent her into a temperamental rage that landed both of them in the dojo infirmary with her grandfather shaking his head and muttering darkly about the prospects of their future. Looking back now, she wondered if Wufei might have done the same had she said something like that to him, and came to the conclusion that he probably would have.

Yet another aggravation to tag onto her list, as Nataku thought humorlessly, as Romefeller's band pulled back to attention and began forming the lines that would lead them off the field.

From up front, a whistle blew one long blast and one short, calling the band to attention. "Band, left face!" called them to face the track and not the football field, and Nataku lost sight of Wufei. She managed to push the thought of him back further into her mind until it disappeared completely, and concentrated on marching in time after the second set of four quick blasts from the whistle.

6: 28 PM—BAND STAND

The ladder shook under Hilde's feet as she climbed up the unsteady rungs. Like so many other things at this school, it was outdated and looked ready to collapse. The students often jokingly referred to the school as the "Lost Colony", playing on the name of the school. But there was fierce pride in poverty, as Margaret Mitchell would say. As a whole, the students were charitable and good-natured, and the teachers were beloved. It made Hilde's stomach twist to realize that her adored school probably taught or employed the ones who had desecrated her house and mutilated her dog. She had her suspects, Ms. Aldridge and Trant being among them.

She scanned the five rows of perfectly aligned students, acknowledging that her spot was the only one void of a band member. Her spot in the very back looked empty and forlorn without her and her silver flute to fill it. Blood pumped in her ears and she could feel her cheeks redden as they replaced tears.

She opened her mouth to shout but her breath caught in her throat. One-hundred and seventy-four students looked at her expectantly. She made her spine rigid, feeling Noin's anticipating eyes on the back of her head. They had left Germany to escape prejudice in their own town, but it looked like it was everywhere. At least here, right now, she had a chance to rise above it.

"Band, horns up!" she bellowed, and instantly every instrument on the field was pulled into attention. She raised her hands and swayed them in a pendulum motion, and the drum-roll started. "One, two!"

She was almost blown off the band stand with the force of the brass instruments playing at her all at once. The tune of the National Anthem, right here and now, seemed to be the most inspiring piece of music she had ever heard. She had risen above. For a few precious moments she was finally in control. The feeling was intoxicating, like a high though not quite so deadly, as her hands moved soundlessly yet powerfully through the air.

It ended all too soon, it seemed to her, as the last strains of music resounded throughout the field. Hilde let out an invisible sigh, took hold of the whistle around her neck, and raised it to her mouth. Four short blasts was all it took to get the two outermost lines of Flag Squad and Dance Line to hurry down and form the lines that would welcome the incoming football team, followed quickly by the Saxophones and Clarinets. Hilde turned around to descend the staircase and saw Sister Helen in the stands, smiling at her. She smiled back.

6: 47 PM—BLEACHERS

"Go, go, go, go, go, go, go…argh!" Nataku swore loudly and slammed her foot down on the metal flooring underneath her as a home football player was taken down two yards from the goal. "So close!"

"Just two more yards," Quatre said reassuringly, his fingers crossed as he nervously tapped his leg up and down on the bleacher in front of him, leaning forward and out onto the stairs as he struggled to see past the Clarinet player in front of him. "Just two more yards…"

"Hey, faggot, move."

Quatre blinked, taken aback, as someone he didn't recognize pushed roughly past him. Trowa's glance hardened from behind Quatre as he made to rise and step forward. Quatre anticipated his movement and turned around quickly.

"Trowa, sit down. Just sit down."

"It's a reflex for them now. You don't even know that kid." Trowa almost spat. "It's ridiculous that you've put up with it for, what, two years now?"

"Just, please, let it go," Quatre pressed.

"No, I'm not going to," Trowa said, an almost sinister silent anger in his face.

"It's completely unfair," Nataku added.

"You won't put up with it just so your parents don't send you away," Trowa continued. "I won't let you."

"Trowa, I really appreciate it, I really do," Quatre said hurriedly. "But I don't want you to hurt anybody for me, it's really not worth it…"

"There you go putting yourself down again. For God's sake, Quatre, it's not your fault you're gay!"

The words left Trowa's mouth just a great cheer erupted from the crowd; their football player had just scored a touchdown and now the cheerleaders were assembling to yell for the extra point. A surprised look passed over Quatre's face, before the corners of his eyes crinkled and laugh burst from his mouth.

"There you go, there's your "amen"," Trowa tacked on quietly, the corner of his mouth tilted in a small smile. "Even they agree with me."

"Oh, wow, that was too funny," Quatre said, still laughing. "Just like that, everyone cheered…"

Trowa rubbed his face and glanced at Quatre with a manner just slightly teasingly frustrated. "I'm serious, Quatre. I'm not going to let you put up with it any more. You don't deserve to be treated like you are."

Quatre gave Trowa a tiny smile. "Thanks. I don't know how much you'll be able to do but…thank you."

Trowa shrugged. "What else would I do?"

Quatre's smile broadened, and then he bit the inside of his lip and frowned as he turned back to the front. It had been hard to lie to Middie about his feelings for Trowa more than an hour ago. In fact, as Quatre noted, the reason he knew he was gay was because of those feelings. He hadn't mentioned that fact when he had come out two years ago. Everyone thought he was simply attracted to boys, but the truth was that what he felt for Trowa was deeper, more special, even more spiritual, than mere physical attraction.

Another cheer, even louder than the first, exploded from the crowd, causing Quatre to turn around. They had gotten the extra point.

Trowa leaned forward, resting his hands on Quatre's shoulders, to see the track better. Quatre nearly jumped out of his skin at Trowa's hands on his shoulders, but a beautiful comforting feeling settled on him a moment after. Consciously yet sub-consciously his own gloved hand raised to his shoulder to rest on Trowa's.

But Trowa removed his hands and stood up without Quatre's ever making it. "Mr. Luvsmit stood up. Get your flute ready."

"Huh? Oh…yeah…" Quatre stood up and lifted his flute to his mouth.

10: 16 PM—TRACK

A feeling of euphoria had settled in the home stands; girls hugged their friends and jumped in jubilant circles, even men lost their inhibitions and hugged as they hooted in exaltation. Several squad members began singing loudly and euphorically off-key.

"In a stunning display of strength, endurance, and prowess, the After Colony High School Gundams have triumphed over Romefeller's Forces and won the championship!"

Duo picked Hilde up and balanced her on his hip as they pumped their respective free arms in the air, screaming wildly before sharing a deep kiss.

"I'm proud of ya, Hilde-darlin'," Duo whispered in her ear warmly.

"I could see you on the stand, you were practically glaring at me," Hilde responded good-humoredly. "Did you think I was gonna get shot or something?"

"You were in the perfect position to be a target," Duo argued, jokingly yet seriously.

"You big dork." Hilde kissed him again. "Come on, put me down, you have to go line up."

"Argh, you can really spoil a moment," Duo teased, hoisting her in the air and setting her down on the seat behind them.

"Oh, Duo, tell everyone to wait in the vestibule outside F-Wing, okay? There's a surprise for you guys."

"No problem," Duo said. "Meet you there." He turned to leave.

"Ah-ah-ah!" Hilde yanked his braid and turned him around. "After two-plus years, you'd think you'd learn to kiss me good-bye."

"No use trying to slide one past you you, is there?" Duo grinned.

"Nope." She leaned forward and planted a kiss on his lips. "_Now_, get going."

"Yes, ma'am," Duo said dutifully, turning again and making his way down the bleachers with the mass of band members.

"You have a needy girlfriend," Wufei commented after fighting his way through he crowd to get next to Duo.

"She has a needy boyfriend," Duo responded, smiling. "Hey, at least we don't stop in the middle of the hallway to make out _two seconds_ before the bell rings. We should do that just to tic you off, Wufei."

"He'd just plow right through you," Nataku said from behind them. "And then start lecturing you on public decency."

"Like you wouldn't do the same," Wufei retorted.

"No, I wouldn't," she snapped.

"Then what would you do?"

Nataku opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out. The complete honesty that had been hardwired into her practically since birth had conflicted with her self-righteous nature before, and it always wound up embarrassing her with Wufei's smug smirk.

"All right, you guys, stop flirting," Duo said quickly, sensing the imminent humiliation on Nataku's part.

"You're one to talk," Nataku and Wufei flung at him simultaneously.

"I rest my case," Duo muttered to himself as he turned around and began slowly working his way down the metal bleacher seats.

"Ooph!"

"Oh, God, Relena, I'm…sorry…" Duo trailed off. He had accidentally knocked Relena off the bleachers in front of him, straight into the arms of Heero, who was sending him a death glare.

"'S'all right, Duo," Relena said forgivingly. She waited a moment before removing herself from Heero's grasp and straightening up. "Thanks, Heero."

Heero shrugged. "Come on, we have to go."

"He likes you," Duo whispered, leaning forward so he whispered into Relena's ear.

"You really think so?" Relena whispered back, watching Heero descend the bleachers.

"Yeah. Y'know, Heero's been on his own a lot. His mom's dead and his stepdad's overseas…I'm just hoping you can make him a bit happier by going out with him. Make him smile a bit, y'know? Instead of glaring at everyone all the time."

"I know…he scares me sometimes, too. I hate seeing him when he's like that."

"Well, you can change that," Duo said decisively.

"Oh, I hope so," Relena wished quietly, and then stepped down onto another step as the crowd methodically worked its way down.

10: 32 PM—F-WING

Hilde started up from where she had been leaning against the wall as Heero pushed open the door. He glanced around the vestibule and caught sight of Zechs and Noin.

"Heero! It's been too long." Noin stepped forward, her arms open. Heero allowed himself to be hugged for a few moments.

"Are you two hitched yet?" he deadpanned once he had stepped back.

"No," Noin said, laughing. "In fact, that's what we're here to tell you guys about."

"Tell us about what?" a new voice asked, as Quatre entered. "Noin?"

"Wait until everyone else is here," Noin replied, hugging Quatre, who returned the gesture. He had liked Noin ever since Relena had introduced them two years ago. Oddly enough, Relena had met Noin before she had found Zechs—they had run into each other when Relena had been taking a shortcut home, and from there had become good friends. It was only when Noin introduced her to Zechs was there any spark in memory of the fact that they were separated siblings of murdered Italian politicians. Of course, only Zechs and Noin had known the details, the only thing Relena had known for the first month of knowing the couple was that Zechs was strangely, vaguely familiar.

"Oh my God, Noin! Milliardo!"

Zechs flinched a bit at his birth name—he was still unused to being called that. Noin never called him by his Christian name. Only Relena and Dorothy used that appellation. Nevertheless, he lifted his arms welcomingly as she ran into them, hugging her brother tightly around the waist. He smiled as she pulled away to hug Noin.

"Hello, Milliardo," a cool voice said, as Dorothy drifted in from the doorway.

"Hi, Dorothy," Zechs responded on the same vein. Dorothy and Zechs had known each other through Dorothy's cousin, Treize, Zechs's oldest friend.

"Noin, Zechs," Duo acknowledged as he came through the door.

"Hi, Duo," Noin said warmly. "Have you been treating my cousin nice?"

"But of course," Duo said, wrapping an arm around Hilde's shoulder.

The door swung open and shut again as Trowa entered the vestibule, Wufei behind him, and Nataku lagging behind him.

"What the big news Hilde said you had?" Wufei asked, glancing at Zechs and Noin.

"Well, here it is," Noin said. "We've set a date for the wedding."

Relena gave off a little shriek of happiness. "Really? When?"

"The twenty-sixth of this month," Noin said.

"The twenty-sixth? That's really short notice," Dorothy commented.

"Zechs and I are home specifically for this purpose, we're going back in mid-January."

"That soon?" Relena said, her face crestfallen.

"Yeah," Noin said sadly. "After this we won't be coming back until June next year."

Relena balled her fingers and cupped her fist with her other hand. Heero glanced at her, and for a fleeting instant, thought of a small child doing the exact same thing when his mother announced to the family that she was leaving in two days to work in Kyoto.

"We just got home early today, so we came right down here to meet you," Noin continued. "We're inviting you all to the wedding. It's at noon, in the Quaker church in Dupont Circle."

"My church?" Duo said. "I heard Father talking about a wedding coming up; I didn't know it was _yours_!"

"Yes, we wrote to Father Maxwell just before we left for home. Oh, and Relena, we want you to be my Maid-of-Honor."

Relena looked up and blinked. "You…what?"

"Yes. I'm getting my gown not this Sunday, but next Sunday, and we should get you fitted for your gown then, too. That is, if you want to."

"Are you kidding? I'd love to be your Maid-of-Honor!" Relena threw her arms around Noin, and then turned to hug her brother and kissed him on the cheek. "Next Sunday?"

"Yes, I'll pick you up."

"You're not staying with us?" Relena said, looking disappointed.

"Zechs and I are staying at a hotel until the wedding, and after that we're honeymooning in Florida. Why?"

"I just thought that it'd be nice if you guys stayed with us," Relena said, sighing.

"Sorry, darlin'," Noin said, smiling sadly.

Hilde coughed loudly. "And where am I during all of this?"

"Oh, did I forget to mention? You're my other Maid-of-Honor. Technically, there's only one, but it's _my_ wedding, so…"

""Forget to mention"? You suck, Noin."

Noin grinned impishly and hugged her cousin. "I'll get you on Sunday, too. How does two sound?"

"Wonderful," Relena said, simultaneous with Hilde's "Awesome."

"And I'll call you guys tomorrow," Noin promised.

"Oh, I can't do that," Relena said. "Hilde and I have Community Service Club from one to three, and then I'll be out with Heero for the rest of the day."

Zechs seemingly perked up at the mention of Heero's name. "As in a date?"

"…Yeah…" Relena said, eyeing her brother warily. Relena secretly thought that Zechs had made the "overprotective brother" cliché just that, a cliché.

Zechs eyeballed Heero, and Heero returned the stare, though wilting just the tiniest bit. Odin had written him about soldiers who had rage problems. Heero was quite sure he could hold his own against Zechs, but he couldn't imagine Relena being too chuffed with her brother and himself beating each other up over her.

"Where are you going?" Zechs inquired.

"Downtown," Heero and Relena answered in unison.

"Ze-echs," Noin said, yanking his hand. "Leave them alone."

Zechs raised his eyebrow at Noin, and then looked at Heero again. He stared at him for a few minutes, the gesture being returned, and then he looked at Relena.

"You be careful downtown, Relena," he said warningly. "There are lots of sick people out now. And with Dermail as powerful as he is…" Zechs trailed off, frowning. "I'll drive by sometime in the afternoon."

"Oh, yes, and I'll drop by your house too, Hilde," Noin said.

"Come by at one-thirty," Hilde said, glancing at Relena playfully. "I already know that Service Club will be there."

"I'll do that," Noin said. She clapped her hands conclusively. "Now, I can tell you all want to go, and the jet lag is starting to catch up with _us_, so Zechs and I will leave now, and you guys can go celebrate your victory. The band was _wonderful_, by the way. We were so proud of you guys."

"Thank you," Relena and Quatre said together.

Noin pulled Relena and Hilde into a collective hug and kissed the tops of their heads, and then smiled at the rest of the group. "I will see you guys later."

"'Bye, Zechs," Relena said, hugging her brother again.

Zechs tilted his head down to face her. "You be careful, Relena. I am beyond serious."

"I'll be careful," Relena promised in a whisper, and then stepped back so Noin could take Zechs's hand.

"'Bye, guys," Noin said, flashing a smile at the entire group. "We'll see you later."


	6. December 7, 2004, Part 6

Disclaimer—Still own nothing

Shout-outs:

Lynn: You are so lazy! Leave me a real review next time!

Macu-Knight: Glad you like the story. About Zechs…I actually thought I did a pretty good job with him. It's getting harder and harder to keep everyone true to their canon personas, but I thought Zechs was okay. He can be cheerful when he wants to be, especially with Noin, since they _are_ engaged. Glad you like the Heero-Zechs rivalry. It's there simply because Zechs is the over-protective big brother. I tried not to make it too extreme, though (ExtremistBigBrother!Zechs is kinda annoying).

RLD: Can I get an Amen? (In background: Amen!) And, about history class. None of the characters are in a 20th Century History class, so it'd be hard to do unless I can squeeze it into Heero's/Relena's/Dorothy's World Affairs class. I like the idea, though. Maybe I'll do a school assembly kind of thing. In any case, I'm looking forward to using the "Hath not a Jew eyes?" speech.

El Terrible Fizzy: Thank you (and RLD) for reading even though you're a Yaoi fan. (I personally really don't like Heero/Duo.) I myself used to think that everything bad was gone away, and then you read the news and…well, I needn't elaborate. Don't worry about sounding like a know-it-all; as Pat Benatar sang, "We've got a right to be angry." And yes, Hippies must survive (though the drugs and the not-bathing can die out if they want to).

Lost-Remembrance, Orphen27: Thank you both very much!

Author's Notes—

1) The story of the boy who took Pot laced with PCP is true.

2) Nuit is pronounced "Nwee", Aprés is "Ah-pray", Soir is "Swar", and Matin is "Mah-tahn".

3) In chapter one, I said that Nataku's grandparents left China in 1933, but in this chapter it's revealed that all of them except Duo had to take English as a Second Language. This is because Wufei's and Nataku's parents traveled back and forth between China and America (Why? You'll just have to find out later), and their children were actually born citizens of China. They lived there for four years until their parents' deaths (Why? You'll just have to find out later), and then were sent to America to live with relatives. Since they already spoke Chinese, they had to take ESL (English as a Second Language) in pre-school. If you're curious, Relena took ESL in pre-school (aged 2—she had already learned some Italian); Heero and Middie in elementary school (aged 8 and 10); Quatre and Dorothy in middle school (aged 13); Trowa and Hilde in high school (aged 14).

4) I made some changes in the previous chapters. One is minor (They went to Friendly's instead of IHOP) but the other is major—the Quaker church is the Maxwell Church.

* * *

December 7th, 2004 Part Six

* * *

10: 57 PM—FRIENDLY'S PARKING LOT

Middie looked at the lit cigarette in between her index and middle fingers, and tossed it away nervously. Her father and brothers told her that it was a disgusting habit that she needed to kick, and while she wholeheartedly agreed, it was the only thing she could take to keep her from a complete mental breakdown without getting high. At one point in time she had been tempted to take something stronger, and then she had heard the story of the boy who had taken Pot laced with PCP and consequently dug out his own eyeballs. As much as she thought her world was ugly, she still wanted to see it.

She was just glad that work had ended before it had gotten further into the night. She didn't trust the men she worked for farther than she could throw a U-Haul truck. Agitated, she pulled another cigarette out of her pocket. She'd smoked once in front of Trowa—as a 10-year-old, for Heaven's sake—and he'd stared at her with his cool, unwavering, disdainful, emerald gaze that could make a dictator quiver in his boots. She had to admit to herself that she didn't like emeralds very much; she preferred aventurines.

She looked up as a van pulled into the parking lot. Her first instinct was that some tourists were stopping for a bite to eat, but her stomach did a flip-flop as she saw who was exiting the car. Relena was shutting the driver's door, talking over the car to Hilde, who had moved out of Duo's lap as he climbed out of the front passenger seat. Relena turned to face the back as Heero stepped out, chattering animatedly as he nodded. The trunk popped open as Nataku decided she didn't want to wait for the back door on her side to be opened, and Wufei clambered out after her. Trowa was exiting the back door. Middie's chest seemed to fill with lead as she saw him turn and help Quatre climb out of the middle backseat.

"H-hey," Middie called, quietly at first, and then, "Hey!" She waved her arm. "Relena!"

Relena looked over. "Oh, Middie!" She waved back.

Trowa gave Relena a hard look. "Why's she here?"

"I invited her." Seeing Trowa's look, her back stiffened. "Just relax, Trowa. I like her, so I'll talk with her, but you don't have to if you don't want to, okay?"

Trowa looked meditative for a second, and then nodded. Relena was never unreasonable, so he subconsciously decided he shouldn't be either.

The group and Middie met half-way. Middie caught Trowa looking at the cigarette in her hand, and suddenly it felt like a ten-pound weight.

"You smoke?" Relena and Dorothy asked simultaneously, the former disgusted and the latter curious.

"Occasionally," Middie said, tossing the cigarette aside. "When I'm stressed out."

"Why, what have you been doing?" Dorothy queried.

"I just got off work. My boss sucks. My co-workers do, too." She reached into her pocket and pulled out the half-empty pack. "I'll toss these if you don't like it."

"Would you?" Relena asked. "Sorry, but my grandmother smoked, and she has a hole in her neck because of it."

"Yeah, it's not a problem," Middie answered. "Well, let's go in."

There was a jumbled-up agreement and the group started in the direction of the restaurant. Middie felt a presence building behind her, and wasn't surprised but still startled when Trowa grabbed her arm.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Yeah," Middie said, biting back hesitation. "Hey, guys? Me and Trowa wanna talk."

"Oh, okay, we'll save you some seats," Duo offered.

"I'll wait in the vestibule for you, so I can lead you to our seats," Quatre offered, glancing worriedly at Trowa and Middie. Middie bit back a sad smile. Quatre's face was telltale of his emotions—his face was exactly like hers.

The others passed through the vestibule. As soon as the door shut behind him, Trowa tightened his grip on her wrist and turned her around.

"You're still smoking," he said accusingly. "Are you still working for them?"

Middie looked away guiltily.

Trowa's voice seemed almost inaudible with pent-up anger. "After everything that happened, you're still working for them."

"Well, what am I supposed to do, Trowa, huh?" she snapped. Out of habit, she laced a cigarette between her index and middle fingers. "Don't you think I've tried to break it off? Why do you think we moved overseas? But did you know they're international? You know the real reason why I transferred to this school? I tried to back out, and Nuit was attacked, and he had to go to the hospital. He was _attacked_, Trowa! Nuit is _eight years old_. I didn't even know about them when I was eight." Middie put the cigarette in her mouth, but her shaking lips couldn't support it, and she took it out.

Trowa reached out and took the cigarette from her hand. "Stop smoking. You're killing your lungs."

"That your idea of comfort?" Middie asked sarcastically, but allowed him to take it. "You know, I never felt the exact feeling you did when the Captain died, but I was pretty frickin' close to it when Nuit was hospitalized. His heart was beating so slowly…" Tears started in her eyes. "We thought he was going to die…" A tear spilled over from her eye and cascaded down her cheek. She didn't bother wiping it away.

"Don't cry, Middie." Hesitantly, Trowa reached forward and wiped her tear away.

"Well, what else can I do? I'm stuck in Hell for life, and probably Hell after I die, too."

"First of all, you should calm down," Trowa said straight-forwardly. "Second of all, you should come inside and get something in you before you pass out."

"Thanks for the concern," Middie said bitterly. She turned away.

"I didn't think I could forgive you," Trowa said simply, quietly, after a moment.

"Yeah? What about now?"

Trowa shrugged. "Maybe." He thought of Cathy and her already fragile health, if someone had attacked her and put her in the hospital…he had already lost two fathers and a mother, he couldn't lose a sister, too.

"Trowa? Do you think we could ever be friends again?" Middie asked quietly.

"I don't know." Trowa glanced away. "We should get going. You need food, and they'll be getting worried."

"Yeah, especially Quatre, huh?" Middie snorted under her breath.

"What was that?"

"I said, "especially Quatre"," Middie replied.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Are you that blind? Do you _really_ not get that he likes you?"

Something like a rock seemed to hit Trowa from within the face. "What?"

"He _likes_ you, Trowa. As in, wants to be boyfriend-and-boyfriend with you."

Trowa grabbed Middie's forearm so tightly that her skin began to turn dark red. He spun her around and looked her in the face. "Don't talk about that. You have no idea what would happen to him if that got out—"

"Wait. You _know_?"

"I know," Trowa affirmed, dropping his arm. "I knew you loved me when we were ten, and I know he loves me now. You haven't been here for the past two years; you don't know how close to getting queer-bashed he already is. You know how much danger you're in right now? He'd be in that same amount of danger if they _knew_ he liked somebody, especially if that somebody is his best friend."

"What about you?" Middie questioned. "Do you like him back?"

"That's personal," Trowa said firmly.

"I think you do."

"I think the conversation's closed," Trowa said tightly.

"Fine, fine. I won't tell anyone that he likes you," Middie said. "Though I think it's pretty obvious…"

"Come on, Middie," Trowa interrupted. "Some food will do you better than a cigarette and prying into my love life."

"Blunt as always," Middie said, smiling sadly. "Nice to see some things haven't changed."

* * *

11: 15 PM—NON-SMOKING TABLE

"Can I get you started off with something to drink?"

"Sylvia, I didn't know you worked here," Heero said, looking at the waitress.

"Oh, hey, Heero, guys," Sylvia Noventa said, smiling. "Yeah, I just started. I'm paying rent now, so…" She trailed off.

"I'm sorry about what happened," Quatre offered. Sylvia was in the Orchestra, one of the few straight, non-homophobes in the class.

"Oh, it's okay." Sylvia sighed. "Brian can't get out of school. It would've been nice to have him around…It's sad, but I do like supporting myself. So, anyway, can I start you off with anything to drink?"

"A Pepsi," Heero ordered.

"I'll have a Grape Soda," Duo said, raising his hand slightly.

"Me, too," Hilde said, doing the same thing.

"I'll have a Root Beer," Wufei and Nataku said simultaneously.

Sylvia smiled as she scribbled on her pad. She'd secretly been a fan of the two of them—she was one of the starry-eyed love-hate romancers that Nataku detested—and loved any moments that would permit her to squeal over their "relationship".

"Hot Lipton," Trowa ordered.

"Coffee, black," Dorothy said.

"I'll have a Coke, please," Relena ordered politely.

"A Cherry Coke for me, thanks," came from Quatre, on the same vein.

"And I'll have a Brisk Iced Tea, with a lemon," Middie ordered.

"You're the new girl," Sylvia said, glancing at Middie as she wrote down her order. "What's your name? Minnie?"

""Middie"," Middie corrected. "M-I-D-D-I-E."

"It's a pretty name," Sylvia complimented, shoving her pen in her waist pouch. "I'll be back with your drinks to get your order." She waved and turned away.

"Who was she?" Middie asked.

"Sylvia Noventa," Heero supplied. "She's not close, but she's nice. Brian's her boyfriend; he's at West Point. Her grandparents died last month—she lived with them, so now she's living on her own."

"And Heero had a thing for her in Sophomore year," Duo muttered loud enough for all to hear.

Heero glared at Duo with the glare that could make flowers wilt. "I did not."

"Oh, that's right, Heero's never had a thing for anyone but Relena," Duo amended.

"Duo!" Relena squeaked, her face pink.

"Tell me it isn't true," Duo challenged.

"Come on, Duo, that's not cool," Nataku admonished.

"All right, all right, I got it, I'll stop," Duo acknowledged begrudgingly. He picked up his menu and looked at it. "All right, guys, I haven't eaten since this morning and I'm _starving_. This double cheeseburger looks inviting. What do you think, babe?"

"I'm kinda in the mood for a soft taco tonight, I don't know why," Hilde said, glancing at Duo's menu. "How about you guys?"

"The usual fruit salad for me," Quatre said.

"They _have_ other vegetarian stuff here, you know," Wufei said.

"I know, but I love the fruit salad here."

"I like the idea of that double cheeseburger, Duo," Nataku said, looking at the picture on the menu. She pointed at it. "I'm sorry, but—"

"There is no way a cheeseburger can get that big," she and Wufei said in unison. They looked at each other, both looking a little embarrassed that they once again had been thinking the same thing.

Relena coughed to distract the others. "I'm in favor of the cheese quesadillas," she said, pointing at the name on the menu.

"I'm actually in the mood for a sandwich," Middie said. "The BLT looks nice…what?" Middie found all eyes looking at her. "What?"

"You don't know," Relena said, "but we don't eat pork or shellfish when we eat out together."

"Why not?" Middie asked, perplexed.

"Hilde's Jewish and Quatre's Muslim, so they both keep kosher," Heero explained, not looking up from his menu.

"Yeah, you should see Quatre's face when he sees pork, it practically turns green," Duo put in.

"Wait, I don't get it," Middie said. "Why don't you eat those things?"

"It's a religious thing," Quatre explained. "I don't know about shellfish—I'm allowed to eat it—but pig is considered "unclean" because it eats its own…feces."

"And we are not having this conversation while we're eating," Nataku said.

"I made the same mistake the first time we all went out together; don't worry about it," Dorothy said, looking over at Middie. "Why don't you just order some soup? That's what I'm doing."

"What kind?" Middie asked.

"Cream of mushroom."

"Oh, that sounds good," Middie said. Suddenly, she gasped. "I just thought of something…are we going Dutch?"

"Oh, I knew I forgot to tell you something!" Relena said self-belittlingly. "We all go Dutch, nearly all the time."

"Oh, this sucks. I don't get paid till next week."

"Tell you what," Dorothy said. "Switch spots with Relena, and we'll split my soup."

"Seriously?" Middie asked.

"Yeah, I never finish it on my own anyway," Dorothy said. "Switch now before Sylvia gets back."

"Thanks a bunch," Middie said, standing up with Relena. They switched seats, and Middie pulled her chair over closer to Dorothy.

"That reminds me," Duo said. "I didn't go to work today, I didn't get paid."

"Uh-oh," Hilde said, stricken. "I only have enough for one person."

"Do you wanna do what Dorothy and Middie are doing?" Duo asked. "We'll just split a taco if you want."

"Unless you really wanted that cheeseburger," Hilde offered.

"Nah, we should eat light anyway. We're going to eat when we get back to the church."

"Why are you going to a church?" Middie asked, looking baffled.

"We should just tell her our entire life stories," Duo joked. "I live in the Quaker church in Dupont Circle. They adopted me when I was seven."

"Wow, there's a lot of stuff I need to find out about you guys," Middie commented.

"First tell us about you," Quatre said. "Favorite things, dreams, relatives..."

"Religion, political views, you know, things like that," Duo added, smiling drolly.

Middie gave a short bark of a laugh. "Okay, my favorite colors are green and black, I like bobcats and chameleons, I love aventurines—those're reddish-purple jewels—and I like my Gameboy. I want to be an editor for a magazine and travel the world. I live with my dad, Matin, my cousin, Lady, and my three little brothers—Nuit is eight, Soir is thirteen, and Aprés is fifteen. I'm not religious, but my entire family is Quaker, so I'll be seeing you on Sunday, Duo. I wanna shoot those people who're trying to legalize Pot. That a good introduction?"

"Yep, that's pretty good," Duo said.

"Those people who are trying to legalize Pot—my grandfather's one of them," Dorothy said.

"Oh…" Middie's face flushed. "But, Pot is Pot. It's a drug, it shouldn't be legal."

Dorothy shrugged. "It's just a matter of fact. Everyone's got a different opinion."

"What's _your_ opinion?" Middie asked curiously.

"It doesn't matter if it's legal or not. All that matters is if you're the idiot who takes it." Dorothy folded up her menu. "Sylvia's coming back."

True to Dorothy's word, Sylvia appeared at the table, balancing a tray of drinks and a small folding table.

"Coke…Cherry Coke…Pepsi…Brisk…Root Beer, Root Beer…Grape Soda, Grape Soda…" Sylvia checked off in a whisper as she laid the drinks in front of them. She then settled the tray on the folding table and placed two cups on the table, one in front of Dorothy and the other in front of Trowa. "Unsweetened, right?" she asked as she poured Dorothy's coffee.

"Yeah."

"You too, Trowa?"

Trowa nodded as Sylvia poured boiling water into a cup and placed a tea bag into it. She then whipped out her notepad and pen. "Ready to order?"

"Hilde and I are splitting a soft-shell taco," Duo said.

"The fruit salad, thanks," Quatre ordered.

"The cheese quesadillas, please," Relena said from just underneath Sylvia.

"The double cheeseburger," Wufei and Nataku said at the same time. "Will you stop that?" they yelled at each other, again in unison.

Sylvia giggled.

"Shut up," the pair snapped sullenly, once more simultaneous.

"Sorry, sorry," Sylvia said, trying to straighten her face. "How about you, Dorothy?"

"Middie and I are splitting a Cream of Mushroom."

"Oh, that's nice of you," Sylvia said absently, scribbling on her pad. "Unusual for you, but…"

"Oh, so I'm stingy?" Dorothy asked, feigning indignity.

"Oh, no, I've just never seen you share before," Sylvia said. "Hoping to ensnare the poor new girl in a sordid love affair?"

"That's what I always do, isn't it?" Dorothy said flippantly, tossing her hair.

"Sure is," Sylvia laughed. "How about the rest of you guys?"

"I'm not really hungry, I'll just have a Caesar Salad," Trowa ordered quietly.

"I want the fried chicken," Heero concluded, closing his menu and handing it off to Sylvia. The others followed suite. Sylvia lifted the tray and closed up the folding table. With the grace that only comes from being a waitress, she managed to balance all the objects as she walked through the cramped, narrow aisle.

"Oh, Sylvia just reminded me," Relena said. "Do you have a job, Middie?"

Middie's blood seemed to ice over for a few seconds. She picked up her iced tea and took a swift drink. The buying of time did not go unnoticed by a pair of crystal blue eyes.

"Yeah, I work at the McDonald's," Middie said, once her gulp had been swallowed. "You guys?"

"I'm my father's secretary," Relena said.

"Pretty much the same here," Quatre offered. "My dad runs a construction company, so I help out around the construction site sometimes, too."

"Well, as for me, I have two jobs," Duo put forward. "One of them is my own business and I ain't tellin' you, so quit prying. The other one is my Industry class. I work at the MAACO."

"Speaking of, has my car been totally demolished yet, or is it still recognizable?" Nataku asked. "And don't think we're done digging, Duo."

"Nice use of alliteration," Duo commented. "No, your car is still a car, you just exhausted the engine and you need a new one. You'll be getting the bill soon enough. And dig all you want, I ain't telling you what it is."

"Can you at least tell us why?" Heero asked.

"Wait, what?" Middie interjected.

"Duo's got a job that he won't tell anyone about," Trowa explained, though he noticeably did not make eye contact with Middie. That also did not go unnoticed by Dorothy.

"He won't even tell me, and he knows how much that ticks me off," Hilde muttered darkly, angrily, any joking manner she was using to put up as a front overpowered by her almost visible frustration.

"Are you a drug-pusher?" Dorothy asked.

"No, he's not," Middie said. She looked thoughtful. "I mean, if he was a drug-pusher, I really doubt he'd look that healthy."

"There is absolutely no way Duo pushes drugs, because he knows that I would shoot him myself if I ever caught him," Hilde said, almost snappishly.

"I am not a drug-pusher!" Duo yelped, looking exasperated, redness creeping up into his face. "And would you guys please just drop it? I shouldn't have tell you about it if I don't want you to know!"

There was a small, uncomfortable silence. Everyone's eyes were darting around, looking at everyone else's. Then—

"Was that out-of-character or what?" Duo said, flashing a smile asking for mutual forgiveness. "Look, I'm sorry, but this is too personal. You don't have any business knowing what it is."

"Look, Duo's right, we should drop it, it's not our business," Quatre said. "We're making Middie uncomfortable, too."

"Huh? Oh, no you're not. I don't care," Middie said acquiescingly, shaking her head.

"Still, it's a bad conversation to have," Quatre insisted. "And we never finished describing our jobs to you. Quick, do it before Sylvia comes back."

"Heero and I are student-teachers at the fencing school near the mall," Dorothy proffered. "It's a lost art."

"It's just a job," Heero countered. "And it's good training for when I'm in the military. Despite what everyone thinks, there's still hand-to-hand combat going on."

"Then shouldn't you be learning martial arts, instead?" Trowa questioned softly.

"I already know them. Odin taught me when I was a little kid."

"Who's Odin?" Middie asked.

"My stepfather," Heero answered.

"I should be writing this down," Middie joked weakly.

"I'm a student-teacher, as well," Wufei said. "I work at a dojo."

"My grandfather's dojo to be precise, and I work there, too," Nataku said. "Nice of you to remember."

"What's up with you two?" Middie asked, looking at them confusedly. "Did you two have a fight or something?"

"We are not dating!" Wufei and Nataku yelled in unison.

Middie flinched. "Okay, okay, you're not dating, I got it. You just act like you're a couple who had a fight."

"Wait 'till we're eighteen, _then_ we'll be a couple who has fights," Wufei muttered darkly.

"We have to get married when we're legal or we'll get kicked out of our families," Nataku explained sullenly. "Frickin' stupid parents…frickin' stupid tradition…"

Middie blinked. "Okay…not asking."

"We're kind of a scary group," Relena said apologetically. "We all have…issues. I think we all managed to drift together _because_ of that."

"Not to mention that all of us except Duo had to take English as a second language," Trowa commented mildly.

"Yeah, that's one thing I don't share with you guys," Duo said. "So I don't know _how_ I fit in with this group. I only have issues." He paused, and his joking manner was suddenly replaced with a frown, and then with a sad look. He bit his thumbnail again, his eyes seeming to faze out. Hilde touched his arm, and then her hand traveled downward to squeeze his own hand. He blinked and shook his head. "Sorry for that. Just thinking, and it's difficult for me to think."

"Oh, sure it is. That's why you're in _four_ AP classes," Hilde said sarcastically.

"You're in those four same classes," Duo reminded her.

Hilde paused. "I'm not sure if that was an insult or a statement, Duo. I think I'll smack your head just to be safe."

Duo dodged her flying palm and grinned at her. "It was a statement."

"Pleading? That won't work." Hilde grabbed him by the back of the head and smacked his skull with her free hand. "There. Justice is served."

"And I now have brain damage." Duo went cross-eyed and wobbled his head.

"Always flirting," a female voice observed. Sylvia had returned with their order. "You two should just tie the knot and get it over with," she remarked, placing Relena's order in front of her.

"Someday," Duo and Hilde said in unison, reaching forward as if one arm to grab their order.

"Speaking of getting married," Relena said, "what about my brother and Noin?"

"Explain?" Middie asked, almost timidly. Getting involved in this group was more than she had bargained for. She had just barely learned all their names and now they were blatantly advertising their autobiographies. 'It must be nice,' she suddenly thought, 'to be able to blab your life story without thinking about it.'

"My brother and his fiancé just came home from Iraq—they're both soldiers—to get married the day after Christmas," Relena said, absolutely glowing with pride and happiness. "They invited us all to the wedding just before we left to come here."

"I've never been to a wedding," Middie said.

"Well, stick around after the meeting on Sunday and you'll see it," Duo said. "They're getting married in my church. Different minister, though."

"I want to be a reverend," Sylvia said unexpectedly.

"That so?" Heero asked, glancing at her.

"Sorry, that was random. And yeah, I do." She put down the last plate of food. "That's why I'm working so late, I need to save money for divinity school."

"You'll be a good reverend," Relena complimented sincerely.

"Thanks." Sylvia straightened up. "See you guys later."

"'Bye," was the unanimous chorus as Sylvia waved and walked away.

"So, anyway, Hilde and I are going to be bridesmaids…"


	7. December 8, 2004, Part 1

Disclaimer—I own nothing.

A/N 1 Wufei and Nataku—"_Budu saranai_" is a Buddhist holiday greeting meaning "May the serenity of Buddha be yours."

A/N 2 Hilde and Davida—The _shammus_ ("servant") candle lights all the rest of the Hanukkah candles. The blessings over candles all start with "Blessed are you, Lord, our God, king of the universe", and they translate into "…who has sanctified us with His commandments and commanded us to light the candles of Hanukkah", "…who performed miracles for our ancestors in those days and at this time", and "…who has kept us alive, sustained us, and enabled us to reach this season." "_Amein_" is more commonly know as "Amen", which means, "It is so." The song Davida sings is called Maoz Tzur ("Rocky Fortress") and it translates into "Rocky Fortress of my Salvation/It is delightful to praise You/Restore my House of Prayer/And there we will give thanks with an offering/When you have prepared the slaughter/For the blaspheming foe/Then I will complete with a song of hymn/The dedication of the altar/Then I will complete with a song of hymn/The dedication of the altar."

* * *

December 8th, 2004 Part I

* * *

12: 38 AM—FRIENDLY'S PARKING LOT

Middie stepped outside the restaurant and into the cold December early morning, breathing a large sigh. She had spent the batter part of an hour and a half getting acquainted with this group of friends, and learning what seemed like everything about them. They were all from different countries, and some of them had siblings or stepparents or adoptive parents or grandparents. They shared most of the same classes but varied as to what they wanted to do in life—soldiers, politician, mechanic, journalist, business-or-charity manager, cops, engineer, psychologist, not-quite-sure. The conversation and the mood thereof could change on a dime.

She had never been part of a group like this. The people she worked with were either silent or sarcastic, too involved in their work to care that there were other sentient beings around them. Even Wufei and Nataku, whose attitudes towards each other had not altered at all over the course of the night, seemed to care that the other was there. Middie could not help noticing they were like two peas in a pod, as new as she was to knowing them.

The group had decided to walk home instead of making Relena drive them all. The town was split into four provinces, each a small town onto itself, and the group knew its way around.

"Middie, do you live on Youngston Avenue?"

Middie turned around to see Dorothy standing behind her. "Oh, yeah, I do."

"Then you _are_ the family that moved in the other day," Dorothy said, snapping her fingers. "I live about four houses down from you, I saw your moving van."

"Oh, that's cool. Why'd you ask?"

"Because you don't look like the type that likes walking around at night, so I wanted to know the possibility of you walking home with someone. Since it happens to be me, I can guarantee your safety."

"How's that?"

"Let's just say my grandfather has lots of influence in this area—actually, he has lots of influence everywhere."

"Who's your grandfather?"

"Duke Dermail," Dorothy answered breezily. "He practically owns half the world, so I'm safe. No one tries to kidnap me unless they have a death wish."

"Your grandfather sounds scary," Middie said, not realizing that they had already started walking until Dorothy turned her head and waved. Middie did the same. "No offense, I mean."

"He's nice to me. I'm about the only person he's nice to, since most of our family is dead or disowned."

"Why?" Middie asked, without thinking.

"Curious, aren't you?" Dorothy said with a smirk.

"Oh…you don't have to…"

Dorothy shrugged. "It makes no difference to me. My grandfather is from England, and he moved to France and married a woman named Deja. She had two girls: my mother, Marguerite, and my aunt, Noémi. My mother married José Catalonia, a Spanish man, which is why I have an English first name and a Spanish last name. But my aunt Noémi ran off with an Indian—as in India, not America—and had my cousin Treize."

"Wait a minute. Treize…that's—"

"Your cousin's fiancée, yes, I know," Dorothy said, nodding. "So you and I are going to be cousins-in-law. Anyway, my parents died when I was thirteen—"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Middie interrupted.

Dorothy shook her head. "You don't have anything to be sorry for. And I'm fine, I can talk about it. It's been four years."

"My mom died when I was nine, and I'm still not over it," Middie said quietly.

"Different strokes," Dorothy said. "Anyway, my grandfather moved me over here. My aunt's family followed. Grandfather doesn't speak to them, because A—my aunt got married without his permission, and B—she married a non-European and had a child with him. He doesn't recognize Treize as his grandson. Treize and I are pretty close, though—they used to come over when Grandfather was away on business."

"Oh…that's pretty…descriptive."

Dorothy shrugged again. "It's the truth. I used to lie a lot—defense mechanism. Now I just tell it like it is. Like earlier, when I told you I was studying you. I didn't tell Relena when I was studying her."

"What were you studying her about?"

"Her views on the war," was Dorothy's short reply. "Grandfather asked me to spy on her, since she's practically an extension of her dad. It was politics."

"But you're still friends with her," Middie said questioningly.

"Relena forgave me. She's like that."

Middie bit her lower lip and looked away. "I wish Trowa…was like Relena. That he could be friends with me again."

"Trowa's strange," Dorothy said matter-of-factly. "He'll forgive you, but it's difficult for him to trust you if you've betrayed him. I think the only person he'd forgive for anything would be Quatre."

"Why Quatre!" Middie snarled, almost viciously, completely despairingly. "Just…why?"

Dorothy paused and thought. "That's just the kind of person Quatre is. Trowa completely trusts Quatre because you can trust Quatre. I think Quatre was the first to reach out to Trowa when we all met. Since Trowa didn't have any family back then, he just latched onto Quatre."

"Do you…do you really think Trowa loves Quatre…like a boyfriend?"

"Yes, actually, I do. Since Quatre is the one Trowa trusts most, it wouldn't be a surprise if Trowa fell for Quatre. And it's quite obvious to everyone in our group except Trowa that Quatre likes him."

"Trowa knows," Middie said limply. "He told me earlier tonight. He just doesn't want anyone to find out."

"Yeah, that might cause a problem for Quatre, wouldn't it? Can we say "queer-bash"?" Dorothy and Middie turned a corner. "Bet that makes you insanely jealous."

Middie flushed. "I'm not insanely jealous. I just…"

"Just wish Trowa would think about your safety in the same way?"

Middie stopped and stared at Dorothy. "How'd you know about that?"

"I'm not dumb, Middie. That scene in the cafeteria today is pretty suggestive. Add that up to the facts that Trowa is inexplicably angry at you, you smoke, you evade questions and when you answer them you're lying…"

"I haven't lied to you guys at all!" Middie snapped angrily.

"Or you're lying by omission," Dorothy continued as if uninterrupted, still walking.

"I can't believe you!" Middie yelled, running after her. "Who do you think you are?"

"I think I'm Dorothy Catalonia."

Middie stopped short. She made a disbelieving, incredulous noise in her throat.

"Weren't expecting that, now were you?" Dorothy said, raising her eyebrow. "Didn't I tell you I'm brutally honest?"

"Yeah…you did," Middie said, and a small laugh escaped from her mouth. "Relena's right—it's hard to stay mad at you."

"You have a pretty good memory," Dorothy established, almost a compliment, almost a simple statement.

"Y'know what else you told me earlier? That I was interesting. You sure that wasn't a come-on?"

"Oh, yeah," Dorothy said, lightly shrugging. "I'm not interested in anyone. I'm essentially non."

""Non" what?" Middie asked, confused.

"Nonsexual," Dorothy explained. "Psyche-Major me figured out there are seven specific types of sexuality: Gay, Straight, Lesbian, Bisexual, Transgender, Questioning, and Nonsexual. GSLBTQN."

"And what's "nonsexual" mean?"

"It can mean a few things, but I'm talking about not being particularly attracted to either sex. It's like Bisexual in reverse. I can look at a boy and say "he's hot" and then apply the same compliment to a girl, but I don't necessarily feel any real passion for either of them."

"So, if you see a hot boy or girl, you won't flirt with them?"

"Oh, I'll flirt. Flirting is very enjoyable. But I won't seriously hit on someone just because they're a hot boy or girl."

"Are you a heartbreaker?" Middie asked, smiling.

"No, because everyone knows I'm not interested. I've flirted with both Heero and Relena before, and nothing has changed. Mainly because Heero's stick is lodged firmly in his a—s and Relena wouldn't notice a come-on unless it cam from said anal-retentive Japanese man."

Middie laughed, the first full-blown laughter Dorothy had heard from her all day. Tears started in Middie's ocean-blue eyes as she covered her mouth with her hands and hyperventilated.

"I'm glad my honesty is hilarious to you, but it wasn't that funny," Dorothy said flatly.

"Oh God, it's just the way you said it…so straightforward like that…" Middie wiped her eyes and could not prevent fit of giggles.

"Maybe I should be the next Ron White," Dorothy mused.

Middie sighed loudly to end her last fit of giggles. "So, you'll never date anyone?"

"Oh, I'll date if I like somebody," Dorothy said airily. "I'd rather be friends first. We can save passion for later."

"In Trowa's case, passion comes never…at least not with me," Middie said bitterly.

"Maybe with Quatre…"

"Dorothy?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

"This is our street, anyway," Dorothy said, pointing to the green, rectangular sign on a post, reading in blaringly bold white letters, "YOUNGSTON AVE". "You're 104, right?"

"Yeah, you?"

"96. We'll get to your house first, this isn't my end."

"Yeah." Middie glanced down the street.

"And the uncomfortable part of the evening begins," Dorothy commented. "Feels like the end of a date, huh?"

"But you said…yeah, it does," Middie said, deciding not to argue. As much as she liked to hear Dorothy talking, she did not have the energy for it.

"Are you coming to the Service Club meeting?" Dorothy asked.

"Oh, maybe," Middie said. They had been speaking of the community service club in the restaurant.

"It's at school at one," Dorothy said. "You should come."

"I'll think about it. Here, this is my house." Middie stopped.

"Nice house," Dorothy complimented. Middie's house was two floors with an attic, painted white with black shutters and red trim. White curtains hung in the window, even in the attic, and a wooden porch sporting a bright lamp and a swing sat proudly before the door. A brick path led to the stairs. "It looks expensive."

"We have a lot of money," Middie answered, and Dorothy could not help but notice that Middie looked extremely miserable when she said that.

"Okay, this is the end of our psuedo-date," Dorothy said slowly, deciding against pressing Middie for an explanation. "Feel like doing the awkward kiss?"

"Um…not…really."

"All right then." Dorothy leaned over and pecked Middie's cheek imperceptibly. "Consider that the extent of my flirtatious advances."

"I…will?" Middie looked bewildered.

"Oh, wait. Give me your hand."

"Is that a lesbian marriage proposal?" Middie gave a wrinkled smile to show she was jesting.

"No, it's a telephone number offering." Dorothy drew a pen from her pocket and scribbled down seven digits on the back of Middie's hand. "Call me before Service Club."

"Sure." Middie dropped her arm. "See you tomorrow.'

"Ditto."

Dorothy turned and walked down the brick path, feeling herself disappear from the soft, yellow-white light cast by the porch lamp and into the darkness. She noticed things like that; she had the mind of an author on a philosophy kick. It was fun to think creatively like she did, especially in a house with a grandfather whose every thought was practical. And illegal, but that was beside the point.

There were a few cars sitting by the sidewalk in front of her house. Really, could they be more conspicuous and stereotypical? Dorothy figured she should paint them pink just to put the typecasting out of its misery.

The jingling of keys and the lock turning caused a small lull in the conversation, which Dorothy exploited by taking the opportunity to say a room-filling "Good-night" with an ostentatious yet small curtsy. As she rounded the stairs, she heard snatches of the conversation.

"Akito, that meeting has been set up, hasn't it?"

"Yeah," replied an English-speaking Japanese accent. "Best part is, it's practically in my kid's backyard and he doesn't have a clue. Just like his mother…"

Their voices faded away as Dorothy ascended the stairs and turned into the hallway. Her room was the first on the right, and she entered it, shutting and locking the door behind her. With the agile silence of an alley cat, she tiptoed forward and dropped to the floor above the old-fashioned vent through which she could see and hear everything on the living room below. She was pretty sure the invasion of privacy laws did not apply to illegal activities.

* * *

12: 54 AM—SOUTHERN HIGH SCHOOL PARKING LOT

"Okay, so I'm driving back," Nataku announced. "Fork over them keys."

"Excuse me? _I'm _driving back," Wufei replied snottily.

"I saw you march out of step in the third number," Nataku shot at him.

"That means you turned your head to look, therefore your run-through was not perfect, since we're not supposed to look at other people."

"Fine, whatever. So, who's driving?" Nataku put forward.

"Since it was a tie, I claim ownership rights," Wufei said authoritatively.

"Oh, come on. You drove here. Let me drive back."

"Nope, sorry, can't help you there," Wufei said, smirking. "Passenger seat for you."

"You can be a real butt-munch, you know that?" Nataku retorted.

Wufei rolled his eyes as he entered the driver's seat, and then leaned over and unlocked her door. She stepped in and slammed the door a little more vehemently than she normally would.

"You'll break the windows," Wufei commented, putting the keys in the ignition.

A throaty snort was his answer, and he put the car in reverse to back out of the parking space. Nataku propped her elbow on the windowsill and rested her chin on her fist, staring out the window.

"You know, Wufei, I was thinking," Nataku started, taking a deep breath. It was pretty much now or never, before she forgot or lost the opportunity.

"That's new."

"That's what I was thinking about," Nataku said swiftly.

"That you rarely think?"

"No, you moron!" Nataku yelled, her temper flaring. "Us! I was thinking about us!"

"Meilan, there is no "us"," Wufei said incredulously. "I thought that was the one thing we agreed on."

"See, that's just the thing. We agree on a lot of things. Look at our career paths; we'll probably be partners on the police force, for God's sake. We hate the same things, we like the same things. We've known each other since we were babies. We live next door to each other. Our rooms are the freakin' _same shade of red_. There's an "us", Wufei. It's a screwed-up "us", but we're there just the same."

Wufei was silent, his eyes fixed on the road before them.

"Well?" Nataku prodded, her blood flaring. "Got any smart-alec answer for me?"

"Meilan, listen to me closely. There…is…no…"us"."

Nataku felt all the blood in her system fly to her chest and then her intestines. "F-Fine! I shoulda known you wouldn't give me any good answer! Frig it. Forget I said anything." Her head snapped around and she stared at her side window, her fist clenching and unclenching against the door.

Wufei drove forward in silence for a few minutes. Why was she pulling this now? For the longest time, Meilan was the one who insisted that their marriage was a mistake. She had been even more vehement than him that any relationship they had would end in, as she put it, "adultery, polygamy, and divorce". In the beginning, he had even been indifferent to the idea, but her persistence in asserting the horrible fate of their imminent marriage had set him into fighting it—and her—while matching her strength of will. And now she was talking as if there was something between them?

"Meilan."

"What!" she flung at him like a knife.

"Fine, we'll talk this out rationally." He slowed down the car, and then veered off the lane, coming to park against a sidewalk in front of a small restaurant.

"Just forget it, Wufei," Nataku said acidly.

"No. You brought it up, so we're going to talk about it. Consider it training for married life." He put on the emergency brake. "Now, what's this stuff about there being an "us"?"

Nataku looked at him, her eyes wide with surprise. "Wow. You're serious about talking."

"Am I the joking type?" Wufei asked shortly. "Now, explain yourself."

"What I meant was," Nataku started slowly, "is that we've been stuck together most of our lives. And we know pretty much everything about each other. Look at our similarities—you like red, I like red. I hate sap, you hate sap. We both teach martial arts. We live next door to each other. We have the same group of friends. We're both in the band. We're both in Community Service Club."

"What are you saying, Meilan? Do you _want_ to get married now?"

"No!" Nataku said vehemently. "What I'm saying is maybe we should stop getting into stupid arguments about stupid stuff."

"Redundant, much?"

"Like that! You know that'll tick me off but you say it anyway."

"Pot? Kettle?"

"Yeah, I know, okay? I do the exact same thing. And I'm saying we should stop it."

"And if I don't want to stop it?" Wufei asked, not snottily, but sounding genuinely curious.

"Than we act just like we were before. And have a miserable marriage."

"Hm." Wufei sat for a moment, and then slowly reached for the keys in the ignition.

"Well?"

"I want to think about it."

"Think about what? I'm saying we have to lose our little stupid fight thing. What part about that requires thinking?"

"Letting them win."

"Letting who wi—…Grandfather and Master O?"

"Exactly. I'm still pressing for them giving up when they realize how badly we get along together."

"And if we start acting like friends now, they'll be even more for it."

"Glad to see the light bulb was on, Meilan."

"You just don't know when to stop, do you?"

"Could say the same about you." His hand reached the keys and turned on the car. "So, I'll think about it."

As Wufei pulled out of his parking space, Nataku began fiddling with the radio. "There won't be anything good on. Just overly cheery holiday music."

"Speaking of, you know what we forgot?"

"What?"

"Tomorrow is Bodhi Day."

"Oh, it is, isn't it?" Nataku replied, still toying with the radio stations. "Technically, it's already December 8th." She pointed to the clock, which now read 1: 06. "_Budu saranai_. I think it'll just be us at the Temple. Grandfather is getting old; he doesn't like going outside the house. And your uncle's a Sikh."

"Yeah. Just us."

"Oh, of course I had to come in right in the middle of the song!" Nataku moaned suddenly. "Such a good song."

"Which one?"

""With Or Without You"," Nataku said, before entering totally into the stream of the song. "My hands are tied; my body bruised. She's got me with nothing to win and nothing left to lose. And you give yourself away…and you give yourself away…and you give…and you give…and you give yourself away. Without or without you…with or without you, oh-oh…I can't live…with or without you."

Wufei chewed on the tissue of his inner cheek and glanced over at Nataku, who seemed entirely lost in the music. She had a point…U2 _did_ have a song for every occasion.

* * *

1: 10 AM—MAXWELL CHURCH

"We're back."

"Oh, Duo, we were starting to get worried." Sister Helen started from her chair. Part of the Maxwell Church had been converted into a living space for the Maxwell family, as their salary did not permit the luxury of buying their own.

"There were no problems during or after the game," Hilde said. "No one even looked at me funny."

"Thank God," Davida said, clasping her hand to her chest, her eyes shining with grateful, unshed tears.

"Mom, did the vet call?" Hilde asked anxiously.

"Yes," Davida said. "Annie's…she's stabilized. They say it's a miracle she's alive."

"Which means she could die any moment," Hilde finished downheartedly.

"Sweetie…" Davida reached forward and grabbed Hilde's hand. "Just pray for the best."

"Yeah," Hilde said shortly, trying to force down the lump in her throat. Duo took her free hand and squeezed it. Davida noticed and smiled.

"Duo, your family has been so good to us today."

"Oh, it was nothing," Sister Helen insisted.

"They have to be, it's in their job description," Duo said jovially. "Sister, where's Father?"

"He and Hilde's father went out to the Temple a few hours ago. Rabbi Shbeiker wanted to go alone, but Father wouldn't let him."

"That's Father for you," Duo said, giving a little half-smile of pride. It was so typical of his surrogate father to look after people. It wasn't every person who took in a dirty, foul-tempered street punk who was possibly HIV-infected off the streets and raised him as his own son.

"Oh, Hilde, Noin—it's so odd to call my own niece that—said she talked to you?"

"Yes, I saw her during and right after the game. She asked me to be her maid-of-honor. We're going dress-shopping next Sunday."

"I can't believe my niece is getting married. I just wonder if Mama and Papa will…" Davida trailed off. Her thoughts traveled back to her brother's wedding; her parents had not condescended to attend. Her brother had been beyond hurt, and his brave face in light of his bride's parents both being there had been physically painful for her to watch. "Probably not."

"Will Dad be back soon?" Hilde asked, in an effort to avert any negative thoughts towards her cousin's wedding.

"Oh, I don't know," Davida said. "I think your dad wants to stay there for awhile…find some peace, you know."

"Guess so. Oh, that reminds me…did you light any candles at all? Say the blessings?"

"Your father probably did so at the Temple," Davida said. "Sister Helen provided some candles, but I haven't lit them. That's _your_ job."

"Yeah, I know. Let's start now, I really have to hit the hay."

Davida gestured into the small dining room where church candles had been set up. There were nine of them, complete with the middle one being taller than all the others. A packet of matches lay before them.

"Wow, you've really gone all out for us," Hilde said, looking at them and then at Sister Helen. "You even got the _shammus_ candle."

"Like Duo said, it's in the job description," Sister Helen said, smiling teasingly.

Hilde laughed and walked past the table, toward the sink. "I should at least wash my hands." She turned on the faucet and rubbed her hands together, saying a few words in Hebrew as she did. She turned off the faucet, rubbed her hands dry with a towel hanging off the counter, and turned back to face the others.

"I'm gonna say them in Hebrew, so if you're confused, Duo…it'll be something for me to make fun of you with later."

"I have such a nice, loving girlfriend," Duo said, rolling his eyes and folding his arms.

Hilde punched him in the arm and then reached for the matchbox. She tore a match out and lit it against the packet. She leaned over the table, took the largest candle, and lit the stem. She moved her hands to the lowest part of the candle she could to avoid dripping wax or burning her hand.

"_Baruch ata Adonai, Eloheynu, melech ha-olam asher keedishanu b'meetzvotav v'tzeevanu l'had'lik neir shel Chanukkah_," Hilde recited.

"_Amein_," Davida said with her.

"_Baruch ata Adonai, Eloheynu, melech ha-olam she-asah neeseem la-avotaynu ba-yameem ha-heim ba-z'man ha-zeh_," Hilde continued.

"_Amein_," Davida and Hilde repeated.

"_Baruch ata Adonai, Eloheynu, melech ha-olam she-hecheeyanu v'keey'manu v'heegeeyanu la-z'man ha-zeh_," Hilde concluded.

"_Amein_."

Hilde leaned over the table again and lit the candle on the furthest right.

"These should stay on for a half hour," Hilde informed Sister Helen. When she nodded, Hilde turned back to her mother. "Mom?"

Davida nodded, and her voice suddenly turned from a speaking tone to a singing one. "_Ma'oz tzur y'shuati. L'kha na-eh l'shabei-ach. Tikon beyt t'filati. V'sham todah n'zabei-ach. L'eit tachin matbei-ach. Mitzar ha-m'nabei-ach. Az egmor b'shir mizmor. Chanukat ha-mizbei-ach. Az egmor b'shir mizmor. Chanukat ha-mizbei-ach_."

"_Amein_," Hilde said, and then stifled a yawn. "Duo, we should hit the sack."

"Yeah, don't wanna sleep through the meeting now, do we?" Duo replied, giving Hilde a wrinkled smile.

"Hilde, we don't have any extra beds," Sister Helen said, "but I set up a pew with a pillow and blanket. The seats are actually quite comfortable."

"Thanks," Hilde said. "Did anyone happen to bring my pajamas?"

"Oh, no, Hilde," Davida said hesitantly. "There…there aren't any left. Everything was destroyed."

Hilde's face remained blank

"You can borrow some of my sweats," Duo offered.

"We'll get you some clothes tomorrow, Hilde, before your meeting," Davida said. "For now, just take up Duo's offer."

"C'mon," Duo said, grabbing hold of Hilde's hand and pulling her away, out of the kitchen and into a hallway, leading her down to his room. Said room was relatively bare, though the bright red shade of paint on the walls and the dark violet furniture rendered decorations inconsequential. The room was interesting enough in and of itself.

"How do you not go blind in this room?" Hilde asked, forever in amazement of the color scheme.

"I know, it's like a bad Acid trip, isn't it?" Duo said, grinning as he pulled a black T-shirt and a pair of brown sweats out of his dresser. "Sister Helen nearly fainted when she saw what I did with it. She wouldn't let me back in the Home Depot for a month afterwards. Here."

He tossed the clothes over to Hilde, who disappeared into the hallway and into the bathroom. She emerged a few minutes later, her bundle of clothes wrapped up in her hands. She dumped them on the floor in a heap, and then reached out for Duo's hand. He took it and squeezed it, and then she pecked his cheek, turned, and left the room.

Several hours later her eyes slightly parted groggily. From where she was lying on the pew she had the distinct feeling that someone was in the room with her. Wiping the crusty sleep from her eyes with her left hand, she squinted out into the darkness, steeling herself to jump up should the visitor prove to be unfriendly.

She glanced down, seeing a dark blob on the floor through her narrowed eyes. Her hand reached out from underneath the blanket and settled on the blob. It didn't move, and her hand traveled up to where she thought the head was. Her fingers caught hold of tri-folded hair, and a smooth braided rope of tresses fell down the blob's back.

In the darkness she half-smiled, half-frowned to herself.

"Dork just can't leave me alone," she said affectionately, letting his braid fall from her hands and tucking her arm back in under the blanket. Another thing for her to tease him with later on.


End file.
